Limitless Love
by committedreader
Summary: Peeta and Katniss return to District Twelve after both being crowned as victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Will they ever be able to find a sense of normality after they return? With each being the only source of comfort for the other, how will Peeta and Katniss grow together while battling the ever-present force of the Capitol?
1. Chapter 1

Life after the Games was different, to say the least. It had only been a week since I'd gotten back, but I've been trying to recreate some semblance of normality for myself back in District Twelve. It soon became apparent, though, that things were never going to be the same.

No one truly understood what I had gone through except Peeta, and I haven't had much time to talk to him lately. His family has been asking for his help in the bakery a lot. It makes me roll my eyes. It's like they think nothing even happened. But the truth is, we're two irreparable souls who are just going through the motions of everyday life to make everyone else stop asking us so many questions. Or at least I am.

I stayed in bed for three entire days after the train dropped us off here. The house I now have in Victor's Village is too large and white. I don't feel right staying there, so I've been staying with my mother and Prim still. On my fourth straight day of laying in bed, Gale dragged me outside and helped pull me out of my catatonic state. If it weren't for my thoughts of Prim and my mother, I probably would sleep forever. Sweet Prim and her innocence kept me going. Thoughts of Prim along with my refusal to ever become my mother.

Gale took me hunting that day. It was therapeutic. The next day he stopped by at the same time, so I went with him again. I technically didn't necessarily need to hunt for my family anymore, but I liked it. I figured I'd give any extra meat to Gale's family since he took such good care of Prim while I was away.

"What do you think you'd be doing right now if you never volunteered at the Reaping?" Gale asked as we were sitting side-by-side in the meadow while taking a break.

I shrugged. "I don't know, probably the same thing I'm doing now. Being in the woods with you."

Ugh, why was he asking this? The day had been fine so far, and now I'm frowning, caught up with thoughts of Prim in the arena. I'd much rather forget about it completely. It was my only coping mechanism. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Gale's lips imperceptibly twitched as he looked down and began pulling up grass, tearing strands of it in his hands. "What do you think about us? Where do you think we'd be?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. I furrowed my eyebrows together; this kind of thing was not at all like Gale to mention. He was strong and reliable, stoic and predictable. He wasn't the type of person to entertain daydreams or to dwell on the past. Who had time for that stuff when the only thing we'd been concerned about for years is dinner?

I continued, "We'd be in the woods together, like I just said. Hunting to feed our starving families." My voice became monotone quickly. I didn't want to talk about this anymore. These questions are honestly not something that I liked to think about. It didn't make anything any better by playing the what-if game. If anything, it brought the Games to the front of my mind even more when all I want to do for the rest of my life is just forget about them. If I hadn't volunteered as tribute, my sister would have died. Gale knew that. Why then was he knowingly trying to upset me?

"No, I mean…" Gale sighed. "I don't know. I mean, do you think we'd be together?"

"We're together right now," I countered.

"Dammit, Katniss, stop being so dense. You know what I mean."

"Clearly, I don't." I was lying. I was aware that Gale had unreciprocated feelings towards me. I had known for a while, but I don't think it's anything that serious because we've always been comfortable being just friends. Relationship talk made me uncomfortable, so now instead of having a conversation about it, I'm reacting in the only way I know how: avoidance.

"Yes, you do." His intense eyes met mine, and I looked away until his strong hand held onto my chin and moved my head to gaze back at him. His fingers tucked a few stray pieces of my hair behind my ear as his eyes followed their path. He then started to look at every inch of my face from my forehead to my nose, cheeks, and chin. His hand then cupped my chin, and his thumb brushed over my bottom lip softly, eyes glued to my open mouth. My chest began to feel tight. My heart beat faster. I felt suffocated. I had to get away.

"Gale, stop," I told him as I moved a bit further away from him. His hand dropped and then he used it to run through his hair.

"Fine. But we need to talk about this. I'm tired of you avoiding it."

I sighed exasperatedly. "I'm not avoiding anything, Gale! I don't talk about it because there's nothing to talk about, okay?"

"There is!" His voice was getting louder. Oh, great. "You know it, and I know it."

"Then talk, Gale. Say what you have to say."

"Are you in love with Peeta?"

"Huh?" I was shocked. I didn't want to be talking to Gale about Peeta. They existed in two different parts of my brain, of my life. But of course Gale would have to bring up Peeta.

"Answer," he told me. Something had gone off inside him. He looked different…troubled…

I didn't answer. How do I answer that? "Where is all this coming from?" I asked instead. Suddenly I felt the need to escape. I really wish I could turn back time to the simple days when Gale didn't talk about these complicated things.

Gale didn't answer immediately, instead trying to get his breathing under control. He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his elbows on his knees, his fingers rubbing his eyes. "Katniss," he whispered, "I'm sorry." He seemed to have gotten his emotions in check. His low tone was much softer than his earlier shouts, but I knew Gale. He was just trying to keep me from running away, which I was still thinking of.

"No, we're not done yet. Why are you asking all of these things, Gale? I don't get it. What is your deal?"

He sighed. "You and I were doing great, Catnip. We were happy. I mean, Seam life was shitty, and it still is shitty, but…It used to be you and me, everyday. It made it better. When you were gone, all I kept hearing was about you and him. When you two weren't on the television kissing, the announcers were talking non-stop about you and the whole 'star-crossed lovers' shit." I stayed silent, so he continued, "People talked about y'all all the time…at school…I couldn't get away from it. At first I thought it was just an act, but then…it became more believable …"

I still wasn't sure what my feelings toward Peeta were. I mean, I don't know how to label what Peeta and I have. It's confusing. But I know I can't just go back to not communicating with him after we've been though so much together. "Peeta saved my life, Gale," I said.

"Yeah, because he has the hots for you. That doesn't mean you have to feel like you owe him something. If you had never gone into the arena, you never would have even known Bread Boy's name."

That's not true, actually. Gale never knew about the day Peeta saved my family's life with one small action. I momentarily wonder why I still feel the need to keep this information to myself, but I push the thought aside as Peeta's image in my mind replaces Gale's image next to me. Peeta would never make me talk about something I didn't want to. He understood what I needed better than that. Sometimes not talking at all helped me. I think back to all of the nights we spend not talking, just listening to each other's breathing as we held each other before sleep came.

"I don't feel like I owe him something, Gale. I genuinely care for him."

Gale screwed his face up and stood up. He brushed off the bottom of his pants and said, "Well, that's that."

"Why does this have to be so complicated? I care for you, too, Gale!" I shouted as I, too, stood up.

"Not like that…" Gale said. "I thought I still had a chance, but I guess it's too late."

I became speechless. What just happened? "Bye, Katniss. I'll see you around." Gale walked away, leaving me and my bow alone in the Appalachian woods.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I have no clue how many people are reading this or if anybody likes it, but hopefully a few of you do. That being said, I don't know where the readers may be from, so just a little note: I'm from the Appalachians (app-uh-latch-ins, not app-uh-lay-chins) and since in my mind this is where District 12 is, I'm using some diction from these parts. Hope everyone can understand it, but if not, ask away. It might sound kind of silly if you're not from the south, but I swear to you, it's real. **

**Peeta's POV**

I finished sweeping the floor, put the broom away, and locked the door behind me as I walked outside towards Victor's Village. It was sad, really, that Katniss and I had inherited these two huge houses that were barely used. Well, hers was barely used, but I painted inside of mine sometimes. Hung up the pictures around my room and stuff when I could. Lately I've been working too much to have any free time, though. My brothers had given me hell about having to work overtime while I was in the arena, so I had been working their hours out of guilt. And because I guess I had no choice.

This week had exhausted me mentally and physically. My legs hurt from standing and walking around the bakery, and my hands and joints hurt from kneading dough and decorating pastries. Painting would be out of the question for a while until my hands could move without hurting. I needed sleep. The sun wouldn't be setting until the next two hours or so, but I had no problem going to sleep before sundown. It was the only thing on my mind. Besides Katniss.

For the past few nights I'd been sleeping in the big house there in Victor's Village. I liked it. I think I'll start to stay there all of the time, and maybe I can convince Katniss to stay in her house so we could see each other more. In that big house I could pretend I lived with a family of my own or something, like I earned it and was providing for them. I didn't really deserve to have it, not really. But I could pretend. Most of my family fantasies were about Katniss, of course. I missed her. I wonder if she's been doing okay. It had only been a little while since we had returned here to Twelve, and I don't even feel like we've had the chance to hang out and talk. I wish I could be there to hold her at night like I had gotten used to for a short while. But, then again, I don't know really if she would want me to. Maybe she just wanted to forget about me because I reminded her of too many bad memories. The last prevalent moment we shared was when we were just about to commit suicide together. Tragically romantic, right? I shake my head at the thought of how I've been forced to think things like that were normal. But I'd do that for her again, in a heartbeat. If it meant keeping her safe, I'd do it. I just wish I knew what she wanted.

I'd been so confused lately about where we stood. The cameras were gone, so now what? How should I act around her? What did she want? Was what we had together in the arena real? Since we've barely had time to have a decent conversation since we've been back, I have all this time to spend in my own head and doubt things. Truthfully, a lot of it was because I had been so busy lately that I didn't have any extra time on my hands. I made a silent vow to cut back some hours at the bakery. I needed her back in my life. I felt extremely lonely not having her around anymore.

Up ahead I noticed a few male heads all looking at something. I followed their gaze and saw what they were looking at: Katniss._ Speak of the devil._ There she was, walking in the same direction I was walking from, that cute scowl on her face. Her hair was untidy, and she was empty-handed. I guess hunting was unsuccessful today. "Katniss!" I hollered out to her, picking up my pace a little to meet up with her.

She looked in the direction of my voice, and her face softened. Our eyes met and she smiled slightly before looking down a little bit. I loved that smile. I loved _when_ she smiled.

"Hey," I greeted her, grinning and opening my arms for a hug. She walked into it, hugging me back around my neck. Mmm. She ran her fingers through my hair as she closed her eyes and nuzzled into my chest, breathing in deeply and contentedly exhaling. This was a good sign; she seemed to enjoy the hug. _And_ there weren't any cameras around. "Gotten a little long, huh?" I chuckled, talking about the nest of curls on my head.

"I like it," she simply stated. But then she removed her hands from me and backed away a tiny bit. I frowned for a second, but then I saw her face and the telltale look in her eyes that she was busy thinking. She was upset.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She shrugged and continued gazing somewhere beyond me. "Nothing. Just one of those days," she said, trying to laugh.

"Katniss," I said firmly, "you know if you need anything I'm here, right?" She nodded, but it wasn't enough. "Right?" I asked again.

"Yes, Peeta, I know," she said. She paused before continuing, "I just got back from hunting with Gale," My smile decreased a bit. "..And?" I prodded.

"And he was being an asshole," she finished.

Now my smile turned into a slight frown. "Look, there's nothing to be concerned about," she said, noticing my uneasiness. "Nothing new, right?" she said.

I looked at her with worry. "If he's done something he shouldn't have done, then there is something to be concerned about." What was this about? Maybe she had romantic feelings for him still. I was so confused.

She didn't respond to what I said and seemed to be mulling something over in her mind before asking, "Peeta, do you think it would be okay if I stayed with you tonight? In Victor's Village?"

"Yeah, sure, of course. I'm on my way there now. …Look, did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened. I just … want to be away from the Seam. We've got those big houses now, so why not use them, right?" I grinned at her in response and agreed. She'd tell me what was bothering her when she was ready.

We walked together to "my" house and made small-talk. I tried to make conversation light, but in all honesty I had a million things I wanted to ask. I had faith that maybe tonight we would get to talk and that I would get to journey a little into her mind. Maybe she'd even want to sleep in my bed with me. Before I let my thoughts jump to another place entirely, I forced myself to come back to reality. As we reached the house, I took her hand and led her through the side door I usually used and stepped into the kitchen. She ran her hand along the countertops as she walked to the living area and turned around.

"Um, are you thirsty or anything?" I asked her. "Or hungry?"

"A little bit, yeah," she replied.

"Well, come back in here, and we can make dinner."

We cooked together comfortably. I mostly cooked and she watched me, intrigued by me mixed ingredients and adding spices and stuff.

"Do you ever think about what your life would be like if your name never got picked?" she asked after a long silence. I stopped fiddling with the skillet in front of me for a minute and told her that yes, of course I did. "Do you think you and I would have ever talked if…if it hadn't happened?" I turned to look her in her eyes and told her the most honest answer I could.

"I have thought about it, and I think that I might have if the circumstances were right." I couldn't think of the right words at all, but I said what I felt. "We've kind of had this conversation before, Katniss. It's difficult because you've always been kind of hard to approach. But you know how I've always felt about you. So yes, I'd like to think that eventually I'd man up and talk to you in school or something. Or _maybe_ even ask you out." I wagged my eyebrows. That made her laugh a little. She didn't respond, though, so to keep the conversation I have so desperately been wanting to have continuing, I asked her, "Why? Do you think about it?"

"Not really," she started to say, "but I guess I kind of have to. I mean, this has turned my life—our lives—upside down…everything has changed…it's just weird to think about what things would be like if it had all never happened."

I took her hands in both of mine and said, "Well, I'll tell you this. Even though you and I have been through hell and back, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody, we're here and alive now. And who knows, maybe I never would have gotten the guts to talk to you. And I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it." Hopefully I said something to soothe her worries because she squeezed my hands. "So would I," she said quietly.

That surprised me. "Really?"

"Yes, Peeta," she rolled her eyes at me and took her hands out of mine, "you're kind of a special guy. It's not just me who's awesome." She smirked. Was this flirting? Whatever it was, I liked it. We were talking again, and we were smiling together.

"Let's eat," I said. I pulled out a chair for her and we sat down together and dug in. On the menu tonight was fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and green beans. Oh, and I also made some biscuits. Comfort food at its finest.

She made noises of approval as she shoved her mouth full of food, and I laughed. "Glad you like," I said. She continued to eat like a starving woman until she appeared to be full and pushed her plate away from her. "Thanks, Peeta," she told me. She added "for everything" so lightly that I thought I imagined it. We looked at each other's faces for a heartbeat and I answered, "It's my pleasure."

She insisted on cleaning everything up and doing the dishes since I had cooked. "But we have this fancy dishwasher thing here," I told her, and she still washed them in the sink. _So_ stubborn. Afterwards, I told her about how I had two television sets, one in the living area and one in my bedroom that could receive tons of channels. "You can watch anything you want. I hope you don't mind, but I actually need to shower real quick, but just make yourself at home."

"I'm just going to get ready for bed if that's okay," she said. Exhaustion was creeping back in my bones, as well. Spending time Katniss reinvigorated me, almost making me forget how tired I really was.

"Sure," I said. "Me too, actually. So there's two guest rooms, this big couch, which is actually more comfortable than it looks, and then there's also a futon in another room." She looked at me in confusion before I added, "Then there's my bedroom, where you're always welcome to sleep." I smiled at her, hopefully not creeping her out.

She bit her lip in pretend thought and said, "I think I'll stay there, if that's okay."

"Yes!" I said too quickly, but recovered, "yes, of course, I didn't mean anything, I just didn't want to assume—"

"You're fine, Peeta," she said, beaming at me. "But can I borrow some stuff to sleep in?"

I led her upstairs to my room. It was kind of messy, which was embarrassing, but then I realized that she probably didn't care. I pulled out some pajama pants and an old t-shirt and handed them to her. "Hope they fit," I winked at her. "Be out in a minute. The remote is on the nightstand."

I turned on the shower and stepped away for a minute. I liked it really hot, and it took a while to warm up. I stepped back and took my clothes off, walking to the hamper to deposit them there. On the way to the hamper (seriously, this bathroom was huge), I passed a wall-length mirror and stopped to look at myself. I was kind of pale, but my face, arms, and legs were sort of tan. I guess I was sort of muscular, too. I flexed my arms and looked at my muscles. I thought they were pretty big. My legs were muscular, too, especially up at the top. I had an okay face…my ears weren't too big or anything, and I got compliments on my eyes sometimes. I stared at my package for a second and assessed what it looked like before thinking to myself, _what am I doing?_ I threw my clothes into the hamper and shook my head at myself.

I hopped in the shower and let myself relax under the heat. I was truly exhausted but so happy. Being with Katniss just made me happy, plain and simple. I washed up and contemplated just falling asleep standing up in the shower. It was so comfortable. Then I thought of what awaited me outside the shower and I turned around to turn off the water.

My thoughts were preoccupied with her again. No one has ever made me smile as big as Katniss does. Everything about her makes me happy, makes my heart feel like it's radiating this warm feeling to all of my extremities, to my fingertips and toes. I'm a sap, I guess. But I still can't believe that Katniss is out there lying in my bed. _Katniss_. I just can't believe the turn of events throughout the past few months. It has been crazy, but we're here. We're alive, and we're together. I would do anything to protect that girl and to keep her safe. She's the only person I've ever felt this way about.

Realizing I didn't bring anything in the bathroom with me to change into, I have to walk across the bedroom wearing my towel and grab some stuff out of my dresser.

I came back into the bedroom after putting on my boxers and a t-shirt, towel-drying my shaggy hair. I really should get it cut a little. Anyway, I dropped the towel on the floor, pulled back the covers, turned off the lamp, and settled in next to Katniss when I saw her face scrunched up in worry. There's obviously been a lot on her mind, but trying to get her to talk about her feelings is like pulling teeth. Like I always say, she'll tell me when she's ready.

Then I noticed that her eyes were red and puffy. "Hey, Katniss," I said as I touched her shoulder, "why—"

"I'm fine," she said before I could even ask her the question she knew was coming. She rolled to her side and pulled the blanket up to her chin. I thought she was shutting me out, but she scooted back a little bit until she was touching my side, so I rolled over, too, and put my arm around her waist. I put my hand under her shirt and rubbed tiny circles over her stomach to make her feel better. She relaxed into my embrace, and I kissed her shoulder. Soon I began feeling convulsions under my hand and hearing her sniffles and hiccups from crying. I just held her tighter, wishing I could do something more to make it better, but I didn't know what I could possibly do. If this is about Gale, if he did something to hurt her and make her cry, I swear I'll…I don't even know what I'd do. Beat him up? Yeah, right. Suddenly I felt really sorry for myself. What do I have that he doesn't? He's taller than I am, and yeah, I might be stronger, but to people like Gale, I'm what guys call a "pussy." I hate that word. But I've been called it before. Because I've never been in a fist fight. Because I like to paint. Because I like to bake. Because they think I haven't lived a rough life being the son of a merchant. If only they knew my mother…

I say the only soothing things I know. "It's okay, sweetie," I whisper into her ear, "it'll be okay." When her cries finally died down, she turned to face me in my arms and looked at me with eyes sensitive from the tears. She touched the stubble on my cheek where I hadn't shaved this morning and put her hand on the back of my neck, running her fingers through my hair again.

**Katniss' POV**

I wiped the tears away from my face, angry at myself for crying. This was ridiculous. I didn't even know how to feel. Mad? Sad? Glad? I'm mad that Gale always pushes his relationship talk on me. He knows I don't want that. He's been there for me for years and he didn't start that shit until recently, until the Games. I'm sad that we can't turn back time because back then everything was easy. Not really, he was right when he said it was shitty, but things between me and him were a hell of a lot more carefree than they are now. I'm mad that I'm even thinking about Gale. I'm angry he won't leave my damn head.

I'm sad that he feels about me like that when I feel like a bitch for not feeling the same way. He's a _friend_. He's like a brother. I can't even picture myself kissing him. It wouldn't be right. And he _knows_ this! That's why I'm back to being pissed off. He's so damn pushy.

I'm glad that now I'm here with Peeta, the one person I can depend on to calm me down and make me feel better. I've missed his touch so much. It's comforting. Lying on his bed, I smell him all over the sheets and on the pillowcases and it makes me feel a little better. I suddenly feel guilty for even crying over Gale in Peeta's bed. I hate myself. I really hate myself. I feel selfish. And I am. I want both Gale and Peeta, and I can't have them both without hurting the other. I saw the look on Peeta's face earlier today when I mentioned hunting with Gale. Peeta _knows_ there's nothing there. Why is this so complicated?

Luckily Peeta had been in the shower for a while so I could try to make it look like I hadn't been stupidly crying. I tried to get my emotions dulled down before sleep came, but I knew I'd probably have disturbing dreams anyhow.

Soon Peeta exited the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist. His hair, chest, and back are speckled with drops of water, and it made me blush a little. He shuffled to his dresser and pulled out some clothes. "Sorry!" he yelled, going back into the bathroom. I guess it's kind of intimate, knowing he's putting on clothes on just the other side of the wall, but I didn't care. I kind of like it. He doesn't make me feel weird at all. Well, just a little weird because he's so freakin' attractive. But I try to push those feelings aside because I don't know how to label them. The way I just felt as he walked out of the bathroom…I didn't know how to label it.

After he got dressed for bed he curled up beside me and tried to soothe me to sleep. I kept thinking to myself that I don't know what I did to deserve someone as sweet as he is. But I'm glad he likes me. He had been saying such adorable things to me…I didn't know how to admit it to him, but I liked the pet-name thing he had been doing lately. It made me feel special in a way.

I turned around to look at him and touch his hair again. I didn't get the chance to admire him earlier today because we were in public with too many people around, but now, alone together in bed, I could really savor our faces being close and smelling his freshly-showered scent and touching his unbelievably perfect hair. My shiny eyes looked at his bright ones, studying them, never wanting to look away. "I want to kiss you," I whispered to him. With his hand on my waist, he smiled and whispered back, "I won't stop you." With our arms around each other holding each other close, I leaned in and kissed him with everything I had, trying to transfer the feelings I felt but couldn't say in this one action. His lips were so soft… The kiss was electrifying, and afterward, our faces stayed pressed together still while we heavily breathed against each other's lips. I could hear him swallow, and I smiled at him. His eyes turned a little darker before he grabbed my face in both his hands and truly kissed me. I couldn't think about anything but the sensation of it all, this tingly sensation all over my body. I shifted my legs a little and instinctively wrapped them around Peeta's, pulling us even closer. He groaned into my mouth. It was so _hot_. I moaned also as I let my lips part a bit, and the tip of his tongue grazed into my mouth just barely. I slid my tongue against his and once more got lost in the intensity of my emotions as Peeta gained more confidence as he realized that this was what I wanted. As we deeply kissed, he groaned again in my mouth. The sound shot a bolt of electricity to an unknown spot between my legs, and I had to break the kiss and flutter my eyelids open.

Now both panting, we rested our heads on our pillows and stared at one another for a long while. "Katniss," he said. He sounded in awe or something. Maybe it was as good for him as it was for me. He took my hand and pressed it to his lips to kiss before saying, "I'm so glad we can fall asleep together again."

Though falling asleep with a smile on my face, I still had troubled dreams, as usual. Dreams of Rue and Prim and my dad and Gale. Horrible images flew in and out of my mind, and I woke up feeling utterly awful. I looked beside me and saw Peeta gone. He's got an insane work ethic.

Before showering, I brushed my teeth with Peeta's toothbrush, figuring he wouldn't mind. I saw he left out a cheesebun and a note on the bathroom sink. "Hope you slept well. See you tonight?" Of course he would.

I decided to walk around different parts of the woods today. The normal paths I walked and hunted near reminded me of Gale too much, and today I didn't want to think about him. Things have changed. He had pissed me off by making things complicated, and it didn't need to be like that. I briefly wondered if I'd ever be able to come back to the forest without feeling his presence. Whatever. I shook him out of my mind.

Lately I haven't even felt like I've even been truly hunting, just like I've been walking through the woods. I guess there's nothing wrong with that, but it makes me sad. Like I've lost my passion for it. Somehow I feel like the passion is still with me, just underneath a layer of indifference. What does it matter if I bring home a squirrel? My family can now buy meat. Expensive meat. They can get whatever they want. They don't need me anymore. This isn't survival anymore, it's just a hobby. A hobby that nobody else shares with me except Gale. Why does everything in my life keep leading back to him?

And is hunting even a hobby still if I don't feel like doing it?

I needed to stop thinking. This was stupid. Of course I liked doing it; I just had too much on my mind to feel like concentrating on tracking animals today. I focused on moving my legs ahead of one another, just walking, walking, walking. There was the lightest breeze rustling the leaves below my feet, and the way it blew through the trees onto my face made me feel calm. It was the perfect temperature today, just a really nice day. I realized that I had taken days and moments like this for granted. _You don't know what you got till it's gone_. Thoughts of the arena assaulted my brain momentarily, and I looked at the ground and began to walk faster to shove those out of my mind just like I had shoved out thoughts of Gale.

I suddenly stopped when I heard a loud snapping noise very close to me. My eyes widened, alert now. I had been aloof, not even watching where I was going. Maybe Gale came out here and put one of his snares somewhere. Maybe someone else was around here? Frantically I looked around me and didn't see anything. I hadn't stepped on anything and wasn't hurt… I was utterly confused. I halted my movements, only daring to move my eyes left and right until I saw the tiniest piece of string dangling from the tree close to my right side. I picked it up. This couldn't be a broken snare or something… It was far too thin. I'd never seen something like this out here before…

I let it go. I didn't know what it was. Maybe I'd ask Gale about it. Wait… I wasn't talking to him. Anyway, I treaded lightly through the woods after that lest I get my foot caught and end up dangling from some tree. After walking for a few more moments I saw a trap ahead of me. I knew there had to be something out here. It was poorly camouflaged with tree branches and foliage, and it was huge. What was somebody out here trying to catch? A pack of coyotes?

I'd eaten coyote before. Yuck.

I moved closer. I guess an animal or _animals_ were already in there, because they were making thumping noises against the cage trying to get out. The air smelled sickly sweet, probably from whatever was in the trap to lure the animals. I tip-toed closer to the trap, looking comical as I tried to be soundless.

"Reckon ya found out my secret, sweetheart," said a gruff voice from beyond the trap. I recognized the voice of my mentor and began to look around for its origin.

"Haymitch?" I called out to the air.

He appeared a second later from behind a giant pile of dirt. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I replied. "Since when did you trap animals?"

He began to laugh, but it sounded like a nasty wheeze. He put his hand on his stomach and his other against a tree, basically doubling over with laughter.

"You are so naïve," he said. "I ain't trappin' no animals, sweetheart, I'm makin' shine."

What the hell? "Huh?" I asked.

"Moonshine, dummy! I'm runnin' a still," he explained.

I stepped closer to the "trap" and pulled off some branches. What I had thought was a giant cage with who-knows-what-kind-of animals in it was actually a keg-like machine with pipes and all types of buckets and stuff making small noises. I had never seen anything like this in my life. I'd never even seen moonshine in my life. I'd heard of it before, but didn't think this kind of thing went on here. I was looking at my first-ever moonshine still. It was actually kind of ingenious, but I wouldn't tell Haymitch that.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked him.

"Eh, years an' years… How ya think I stay drunk all the time?" he laughed at his own words.

"Aren't you afraid you're going to get caught?" I was really curious.

"No, not really. I got little ways'a knowin' if people've been round here. If somethin's not like I left it, I know."

"Ooh, like that piece of string I just walked through." He just stared at me.

I walked closer and examined the contraption a little more. So, Haymitch makes his own alcohol. That explains a whole lot. I gazed over at him again, at the wrinkles in his face, the emptiness behind his eyes. Damn the Capitol. Damn this world. Damn all of it for turning us into such lifeless people like this. A rush of emotions hit my chest so hard I wanted to cry. I couldn't deal with this. The entire reason for my walk through the forest today was to try to clear my mind, and I wasn't succeeding at all.

I felt daring and brave all of a sudden as I gathered the nerve to ask Haymitch, "Hey, can I try some?" I needed to forget the haunting thoughts of Gale and the Hunger Games and the Peacekeepers and my own meaningless life. This walk in the woods wasn't helping, so alcohol would surely make me forget.

He looked at me in shock but silently handed me the jar. "I wouldn't smell it if I was you, just drink" he advised. Of course I didn't listen. I took a big whiff and wanted to dry-heave. Haymitch rolled his eyes at my face, like saying "told ya so," but to show him that I wasn't affected by the smell, I took a big gulp. It was so strong I didn't think I'd be able to even swallow it. After doing so, however, my eyes watered and my mouth filled up with spit and I felt a fire from my esophagus all the way to my stomach. This stuff was _for real_. I screwed the lid to the jar back on and made to hand it back to him as I emptied my mouth of excess saliva onto leaves underneath my feet.

"Keep it," he told me, "I've got plenty." He shuffled over to an area behind the still and moved some branches around before moving aside so I could see. Rows and rows of white liquid in milk jugs were lined up behind rows and rows of white liquid in mason jars.

"Good God, Haymitch," I gasped. "You're going to kill any brain cells you have left!"

"You see, sweetheart, when you don't care to live you don't care about anything else."

I made a noise that sounded like "huh." As horrible as it sounded, I could see where he was coming from. I opened the jar and took another big swig.

**Peeta's POV**

Telling my brothers that I was through with working their shifts didn't end up too successful. I kept trying all evening to have a conversation with them in private, but I couldn't even get them alone all night. My mother wouldn't leave the room at all and eavesdropped when I finally told them the issue I'd been having with fatigue. Spending time with Katniss was on the forefront of my mind, though, but I kept that to myself.

"Well, Peeta," my mom interrupted when I began talking to my brothers, "they _have_ been working very hard in your place." I sucked in a breath. I knew where this was going. "Don't you think they deserve a little free time, too?"

"Yes, but I—"

"Don't you think they've been tired, too?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then it shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

I let out the breath I had deeply inhaled, not caring that Mother would probably think I was being inconsiderate. "I don't see why things can't just go back to the way they were before. When we all worked equal amounts," I explained.

"But they didn't work equal amounts when you were gone, Peeta. You're not listening to what I'm saying."

"Okay," I told her, defeated. There was no point in wasting any more energy on the conversation.

Later that night I opened the door to see Katniss asleep in a chair with her cheek resting on the kitchen table. Her mouth was agape, and her hands were dangling on both sides of her body below the table. I smiled. She was completely out of it. I'd never seen her just pass out where she was sitting before; she must have been really tired. I walked closer to her, fixing to pick her up and carry her upstairs to bed when I saw a mason jar on the table. Surely it couldn't be…

I opened the jar and sniffed. Yep, it was pure white lightning. Katniss must be drunk. Her hair was sticking out of her braid in different directions, and she was breathing loudly. I shook her shoulder to stir her. "Katniss, wake up," I said. After a few attempts, she finally opened her eyes and squinted at me. Her pupils looked like pencil-points and were very unfocused. She made an unintelligible sound. She was three sheets to the wind.

"Katniss, what were you thinking, baby?" I asked her softly while brushing back the stray hair on her forehead. What was going through her mind for her to get this way? The same thing that had her crying last night? She mumbled something I didn't understand again. I felt horrible for her. I don't think she meant to get this drunk…at least I hope she didn't. I bent down and lifted her up in my arms to carry her up the stairs when the movement startled her.

"Ughhhhhh," she sounded out.

"I'm just taking you to bed, it's okay," I soothed her. "You can sleep there. It'll be more comfy." I tried to get a good grip on her and began carrying her bridal-style up the stairs. As I looked down at my feet to make sure I wouldn't miss any steps, her head lolled back and hit the railing. She cried out at the same time I yelled, "Shit! I'm sorry!" Damn my clumsiness. Being more attentive the rest of the way upstairs, I made it to my bedroom and placed her on top of the covers. She sprawled out her limbs and I noticed dirt covering her clothes. Hmm. I began thinking about getting her some cozy pajamas to wear but thought I'd ask her some questions first.

"Where did you get moonshine from?" I asked her. She told me that she had gotten it from Haymitch and that they drank together for most of the afternoon into the evening. I made a note to have a word with him tomorrow. What he was thinking giving Katniss moonshine when she had never even had a beer I don't think I'd ever understand.

"Oh," is all I said back to her. We were quiet for a while. I had begun to think she had fallen asleep again when she said my name. "Peetaaa…"

After looking at her face, I thought it wise to take her into the bathroom in case she got ill, which she was probably going to. She leaned her weight against me as I tried to lead her to the toilet. We were almost there when she started to retch in the sink.

"Oh, God," I whispered, thinking about cleaning that up later, but really just worried about how bad she must be feeling right now. With one hand balancing her, I quickly leaned over and lifted the toilet seat. I tried to get her to kneel in front of the toilet, but she refused to lean in front of it, instead choosing to stand up and tilt her head down to throw up. It was getting everywhere… "Katniss, please get on your knees, honey, it'll make this much easier," I asked of her. Her eyes were unfocused but she complied. It was then I noticed she had gotten sick all over her shirt and in some of her hair. I sighed. Poor Katniss.

After a couple of minutes she seemed to have most of it out of her system, so I flushed the toilet. She was sitting down beside the toilet leaning against the wall with her eyes closed now. I wondered if she would remember this tomorrow.

"Hey, Katniss, we should probably get you cleaned up now, okay?" She made a noise that I took to be a confirmation. "I'm going to stand you up and take off your shirt and pants and put you in the shower, okay?"

Lifting her was like trying to lift dead weight, but I managed to get her on unsteady feet to undress her before turning on the water. Once she was in her bra and underwear I said, "Good job. Now just sit here in the shower and let the water rinse you off, okay?"

"Kay," she answered. Okay, good. It was just like swimming, right? Just like a bathing suit. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I determinedly kept my eyes unfocused as she situated herself on the bathtub floor anyway.

I contemplated my next course of action. She needed hydration, so I wanted to get her a glass of water and find some Tylenol or something for the morning. Would it be okay to just leave her sitting while I went to the kitchen? She was sitting down in a shower, not a bath, so I thought if I was quick, it wouldn't hurt. I went downstairs, filled up a glass with some ice and tap water, grabbed the bottle of Tylenol, and took the stairs two-at-a-time back to my room. I got back in the bathroom to open the shower curtain and check on her but stalled as I saw her underwear and bra lying soaking wet outside the tub. Oh, dear God. She was naked as a jaybird on the other side of that curtain. It was hard enough for me to try not to look while she was in her underwear, but now she had nothing on at all. I thought quickly…I'd just grab a towel and hold it in front of me so she could step into it and wrap it around herself… No, then she'd slip…

"Katniss?" I called out to her.

"Peeeeta," she said back.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmm," she replied.

"Why did you take your underwear off?"

"You can't take a bath with clothes on, silly," she slurred. She kind of made a cute drunk. When she wasn't throwing up.

I made my decision: I was going to have to open the curtain to make sure she didn't slip on her way out of the shower. I had a towel draped over my shoulder as I opened the curtain and saw her sitting in about eight inches of water with the water from the showerhead trickling down onto her face.

"Katniss!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a bath," she answered as if it were obvious. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She was naked. I didn't look at anything. Okay, I _tried_ not to look at anything. When Katniss is naked in front of you, you can't just _not_ look. But I tried not to. I tried not to notice her svelte neck, or the swell of her breasts, or her smooth waist, or the curve of her hips. And most of all, I tried not to notice the pink between her legs. Oh God. I was a pervert. I needed to stop looking. Stop looking!

"This isn't bath-time," I said, keeping my eyes focused only on her face, which was just as beautiful as the rest of her. "You could've drowned!" I unplugged the stopper from the drain and turned off the water.

"Mkay, now stand up and let's get you dried off," I told her. She moved, but it didn't look like she was about to stand up. She reached for the stopper and put it back in the drain.

"Kat, baby, please get up," I asked of her as I took the stopper out of the drain again and put it on the floor by my feet.

"Peeta, stoppit! Why can't I have what I want for once? Why can't anybody listen to me? Why does everybody think they know what's best for me?! IT'S MY LIFE!" she shouted.

Well. That went bad quick. I put the plug back in the drain and turned on the water again so she could have a bath. I didn't have anything besides shampoo in here, but I emptied some into the spray of the water so she would have some bubbles. Then I sat down on the floor next to the bath, far enough away so I wouldn't make her uncomfortable. Somehow I felt like I was taking advantage of her nakedness by being this close to her, but I was terrified that she would hurt herself somehow if I wasn't there to supervise her.

And it wasn't like I thought I knew what was best for her either; I just wanted to take care of her. She was inebriated, and if I was correct, I don't think she'd ever been drunk before at all. There's drunk and then there's moonshine drunk. If something had happened yesterday to make her cry, it's all going to come out now.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked. I hoped she'd say no. I would be worried sick even if I was just on the other side of the wall.

"Please don't," she answered. I smiled sweetly at her. "Okay, I'm right here then," I told her. If she needed me, I'd be here, but if not, I wouldn't bother her. She took me by compete surprise when she asked, "Will you wash me?"

I swallowed audibly.


	3. Chapter 3

She had just asked me to wash her. It wasn't taking advantage of her if she wanted it, right? This could be okay, just some innocent bath time.

I couldn't do it with her naked, though, because it just didn't feel right. But I couldn't just ask her to put her underwear back on. They were laying forgotten in a wet pile by the wall.

"Uhh…okay," I answered her eventually. I stood up and got some towels and things from under the sink and kneeled back down beside the tub. I took two hand towels, dipped them in the water, and placed them on her chest and pelvis before taking a loofah and rubbing soap all over it. As I was lathering up the loofah I found under the sink, she pushed the hand towels off her body so she was again nude under my gaze.

"Katniss, I don't know if I can do this," I told her as I sighed.

Her face fell, and she looked like she was about to cry. "You think I'm ugly."

I laughed in disbelief. "What? Are you kidding me, baby? You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"You don't make any sense. You're silly."

"No, _you're_ silly," I said as I softly touched her nose with my pointer finger.

"Hmp. Why don't you want to do this, then? I thought you would want to."

"More than anything, Katniss, I would love to do this. But not if you can't remember it, not if I think you'll hate me tomorrow for it."

"It's just a bath! Why would I hate you? You're so chivalroussss. Do you have a secret codebook of phrases you're supposed to say to women or something?"

I raised an eyebrow. Choosing to ignore her last statement, I asked, "Think really hard. Pretend you're sober. Pretend this here, in this same situation, is a drunk woman and a completely sober man. The man really cares for the woman but knows she is drunk. And furthermore, she is naked. In a tub. Asking him to wash her body."

"So you think I'm a slut, then," she said.

"Katniss, no. No way. I…I basically adore you, okay? But just imagine that situation. How does it seem?"

"It seeeems…it seems like the man, if he was like any other men, would probably wash the woman."

"You can't have known very many decent men, then, if you think he'd just wash her," I answered.

"No, I don't know very many decent men," she said. "I know assholes. But you're not some random guy, Peeta, it's you," she said. "I don't care if you see me," she said, laughing loudly. I guess she was making fun that I had once said that to her. Ha, ha. I was fighting the hardest battle inside my head at this point. I honestly didn't know what to do. Here was the girl of my dreams, asking me to _wash_ her, for God's sake. How many times had I touched myself thinking about this very same image in front of me? Soaping up her body, us running our hands all over each other…_Hundreds_, I thought. But not like this, never like this. She was receptive in my fantasies…

I leaned forward and started to unbraid her hair, pulling it forward to cover her chest. At least that would help a little. Even though I was trying my hardest not to make her feel cheap or used, I was starting to become aroused. I was such a horrible person.

"Katniss, look at me," I told her. Her eyes were fuzzy and just about crossed when she looked at my face. She scowled at me because I had again covered her up. "I'm not lying. You are _the_ most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. But you're drunk. And I'm not doing this when you're drunk. I'm going to soap you up, rinse you off, and then if you want, we can go to bed, okay?"

"Fine," she said, and her hands rose and slapped the surface of the water, causing it to splash. I hid my smile. She's like a toddler not getting her way. So cute, just so adorably cute.

I proceeded to wash her hair and body, trying not to think too intently on what exactly I was doing or else my little boner would turn into a big boner and would be obvious when I stood up. It would make it hard to walk and to think, and I needed to keep my wits. Keeping up with drunk Katniss was a task, all right.

She switched positions in the tub so I could wash her hair. Turning her body more towards the wall, she hummed as I poured shampoo all over my hand and in her long, brown hair. She made really sexy noises while I massaged her head, and that got me off track momentarily before I tried to think of something else besides the sweet noises coming from her. As I dragged the loofah across her shoulder blades and on her back, I got off track, as well, looking at the expanse of skin traveling down to her ass... I willfully closed my eyes to compose myself.

I made it through okay. I rinsed her off, and she thanked me for making her "squeaky clean." She stayed in the bath for a while longer after I was done, singing some song about splish-splashing. Even drunk, she could sing beautifully. She continued to sit in the tub after I pulled the stopper out of the drain, watching the water be sucked down the pipe. I took this opportunity to quickly clean the sink and toilet areas. It actually wasn't that bad to clean up—hopefully she just wouldn't get sick again.

After all the water was gone and Katniss was still just sitting in the tub, I clapped my hands and said "Bedtime!" and she tried to get up.

Getting Katniss out of the bathtub was next-to-impossible. I internally congratulated myself on making it through this situation semi-professionally. It would have been completely horrifying if I had had my dick throbbing in my pants while Katniss' wet body slumped over and pushed up against me in her efforts to step out of the tub.

I wrapped the towel around her and led her to the sink. "We're gonna brush our teeth now," I told her, and she smiled a huge smile so I could reach all her teeth with my toothbrush. "Open your mouth some more," I instructed and she answered, "Yes, sir!"

I smiled. "Kay, now say 'ahhh.'" I looked at her and opened my mouth real wide and stuck out my tongue. She mimicked me and stuck out her tongue, so I brushed all her back teeth and her tongue real good before telling her to spit in the sink. Placing a cup of water to her mouth, I said "Sip this and swish," and she did. Then I placed a cup of mouthwash to her mouth and told her to sip that and swish, too. "Allllll done!" she said.

"Good job!" I told her. We high-fived.

I dried her off and led her to my dresser so I could put my clothes on her. I turned her around and told her to lift up her hands as I prepared to dress her from behind. I was just going to put a big shirt of mine over the towel, put some boxers of mine on her under the towel, and then take the towel away. That way she would have some privacy. What I had in my mind as a simple task, however, Katniss, yet again, had other plans. She just let the towel drop and stood in front of me, looking at me from over her shoulder. I now had a complete view of her backside from her gorgeous neck to the lean muscles of her back to her full ass and her shapely legs. Dear God.

Her hair was pushed all over her right shoulder, and as she turned her head over her left shoulder, her eyes made love to mine. She turned her body around and took a few steps to me. She leaned forward and bit my neck and said, "Peeta, you're so fuckin' sexy." Both of her hands grabbed my hard penis. Holy shit!

"Whoaaaa, there, killer," I said, removing her hands and holding them in mine so she couldn't go back to that part of my anatomy. That came out of nowhere. Drunk Katniss was horny. This was completely new. Why did she have to be drunk? This was torturous.

She lifted our entwined hands so they were above our heads and backed into the wall so our bodies were touching. I tried to back away but she pulled me back. Katniss' nudity was pressed up against me, and I let our hands drop to our sides. If she felt how hard I was, she didn't say anything. My heartbeat was erratic as our chests heavily rose and fell with aroused breaths. Each time she breathed in, I felt her nipples against my chest. If Katniss weren't drunk, this would have been completely hot. I mean, it still was completely hot, but…not like this. It would have been like me pinning her against the wall, which is what I think she wanted, instead of her trying to get me to pin her to the wall. "Maybe we should just go to bed, babe," I whispered down in her ear. This made her grin. "To sleep," I added. She had been looking at me with heavily lidded eyes, and once I told her we should go to sleep, her eyes changed. She bent down to grab the clothes on the floor that had fallen from my grasp, hurriedly put them on, stomped to the bed, and curled up in a ball under the blanket.

_Shit_, now I upset her, and now she was crying.

I ran over to the bed and spooned her under the covers. "Katniss, I didn't mean to make you cry! Please don't cry," I begged of her.

"I don't care if you didn't mean to make me cry, you did. Don't place your guilt-trip on me," she said, sobbing into the pillow.

"I—I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. Huh?"

"I can't do anything right! Let me fucking cry! Stop with this 'oh, please don't cry, baby' shit," she said.

That made me feel terrible. I didn't know what I could do to help.

"Sorry. Cry all you want. I just hate to see you so upset is all," I said from behind her, wrapping my arm around her and finding her hand to hold. After moments of just letting Katniss get most of her tears out, I whispered in her ear, "I wanted to. I really wanted to, Katniss…just not like this. Okay? I'm sorry I upset you, but I just want you to know that…that you're desirable and that I'm sorry."

After I had entwined our fingers so we could spoon and maybe go to sleep, she rolled around and snuggled her head into my chest. I took my other arm to put around her body to rest on her back, trying to soothe her by rubbing small circles. I let go of her hand with my other one and wiped away some tears. More just replaced the ones I wiped away. Her face was blotchy and wet. The sight made my heart hurt.

She took a deep breath before she told the story of what had her upset lately. "Gale…Gale deserted me." I looked at her to signal I was listening and that she should continue, even though I hated this guy's name. "He said he'd always be there, and he deserted me."  
"He's an idiot, then," I said. She sniffed.

"Yeah. But Peeta, I don't know. He keeps talking about wanting a relationship with me, and I just don't want that. I want him to stop bringing it up. Stop bringing it up. So I kind of do want him to stay gone, but I don't know…he was my friend for so long…"

Hmm. Well, I thought that was promising, at least. Drunken words are sober thoughts, right? So Katniss didn't like Gale. It was obvious, though, that Gale wanted Katniss. I'd known that since grade school, and now I had it confirmed. Katniss has just never had any idea how attractive she was and how many guys had crushes on her. At least now I knew she didn't feel that way about him, though, something I'd honestly always worried about.

"What kinds of things did he say to upset you?"

"Gale can say a lot without using many words. It's more the way he treats me."  
Flashes of Gale grabbing at Katniss and yelling in her face came into view. "And how's that?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"I can't explain it. Like I'm a bad person, like I've wounded him or something. Like I'm the best thing ever, and I'm not! I'm just a girl, and he's just a friend, and I don't like him like that."

"So when you sleep here in my bed with me…and let me hold you…are you doing it just to forget about Gale?"

"No!" she answered quickly. _Good_, I thought. "But Peeta…why don't you want me? Why won't you touch me? I'm so frustrated…Why does the person I _don't_ want want me and the person I _do_ want _not_…"

"Oh, no, no, no, you are wrong. You aren't listening to me, baby. I _do_ want you…Believe me…" Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. This was so unbelievably difficult. I didn't want to make her cry because she felt like I didn't want her!

"Shh," I told her, "You're amazing. You're an amazing person. Shh." After minutes of silence where Katniss settled her breathing, I told her, "It's not true that you can't do anything right, by the way. In fact, I think you do a lot of things right," I said softly.

"Like throw my body at you and be rejected," she said. "Like get drunk and embarrass myself by hysterically sobbing all over your shirt."

I put my hand under her chin to make her look at me. "Like loving so deep I can tell it eats at you. Like solely taking care of your family. Like…like winning the Hunger Games. Like being passionate, and funny, and intelligent, and strong, and adorable. And beautiful, voluptuous, sexy…I could go on…It takes strength to cry, Katniss. It means you deeply feel emotions."

"You're just saying all that stuff because I feel bad," she said.

"Am not. I'd say it to you if you weren't feeling bad. It's the truth," I said.

"I don't deserve you, Peeta. Why do you put up with me?"

"Huh? I don't 'put up with you.' I genuinely care for you. I wish you'd believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that I don't see it myself, I guess."

Something in her tone made my heart clench. I needed to show her how beautiful she was. She had to know that was was special and worthy. I had seen her depressed too much, and I was here to try to make it better. Still lying side by side, I leaned in and crushed my lips to Katniss'. I planned to do it tentatively, to give her time to feel it, but the rush of emotion I had came surging out through my mouth.

I tilted her head to one side to improve the angle and began moving my lips against hers. Her lips parted easily, and I deepened the kiss. She made a noise of approval as our tongues massaged one another. After a few moments, I broke the kiss. Katniss slumped against me, and I tenderly cradled her head against mine as we caught our breath.

Her eyes, dark with lust and just millimeters from mine, never broke contact as she said, "Don't stop. Please?"

Oh, what the hell. I brought her face to mine for another kiss, this one much lighter and softer, somewhat teasing her, delaying what she wanted. "Mmm," she sounded out, and the vibration sent sensations down my stomach. God, this woman turned me on so much. I took her bottom lip in mine and sucked, lightly nibbling it before my tongue plunged in her warm mouth. Both of her hands wound around my neck, pulling me in even deeper. My hand left her neck and traveled down the front of her shirt to rest on her hip. I daringly moved it a little beyond her hip and grasped her ass. I pressed her ass a little bit forward so maybe she could feel how incredibly hard I was. "Do you see it now? Do you see how much you mean to me? Can you tell at all?" I asked. She nodded.

I leaned more into the kiss and ran my hands up and down the side of her stomach under her shirt, reveling in the dip of her waist on each stroke. Her skin was so soft.

Suddenly she rolled over and straddled my waist without ever breaking the kiss. With her weight on top of me and her mouth attacking mine, I had little time to protest. Without thought, I wandered my hands up her back under her shirt again. Gently I ran my fingertips along the smooth skin there and did the same along her sides. I only paused when my hands went a bit too far and touched the sides of her breasts…They had bulged out because her chest was crushed against mine. Mmm…She hummed into my mouth at the contact, and it was then that I knew I had to put an end to this or I'd soon reach the point of no return.

…But everything felt too good to stop. Her body flush against mine, her legs around my waist, her minty breath and sweet shampoo smell and hands that were rubbing me. I groaned as she bit my bottom lip. Making out with Katniss was unbelievable. It soon became evident that simply making out wasn't all she wanted to do. Her hips pushed into mine where my dick was aching against the jeans I'd been wearing all day. The pressure made me roll my eyes into the back of my head. She removed her lips from me and pressed her forehead against mine and moaned. We looked at each other in adoration. I couldn't believe this was real.

She repeated moving against me a few more times until I knew it had to stop this. I rolled her over on her back and put my leg in between hers so if she really wanted to, she could grind against that instead while we kissed.

"Nooo, come back," she whined, trying futilely to pull my hips closer to her center. I buried my head in her neck and spoke close to her ear, "Katniss, I can't…we can't…" I peppered kisses all over her neck and jaw so she wouldn't take my words as rejection.

"Can't what?" she feigned ignorance. This playfulness was kind of out of character for Katniss, and it threw me off guard. I shouldn't be surprised anymore after all of the things that have come out of her mouth tonight. "We can't fool around or whatever right now. And before you say anything, I do want to, I _do_…you don't know how much."

"But…why not? I don't want to stop. I liked what we were doing. It helps."

"Helps what?"

"This feeling I have… It helps it."

"What feeling is this?" I smirked at her and began rubbing circles on her stomach like she likes.

"I dunno. This tingly good feeling you make me feel." She gesticulated with her hands to try to help her description, "It's like I'm reaching for something and I don't know what it is." She shrugged her shoulders and continued, "Whenever we kiss and when you touch me I get this feeling, and it's good, but then when we stop, it's not good anymore. It's like pain after we stop. I just...want to keep doing what we were doing." I realized that she was trying to explain that I aroused her but didn't know how to in words.

"Describe it some more," I told her. I was just helping her put words to her feelings—that was all…not trying to be a pervert.

"I just tried to. It's hard. It's…incredible. It's like electric jolts everywhere and it's warm and…good."

"Where? Show me," I asked of her. She simply grabbed my hand, and with hers on top of mine, placed it on top of the area between her legs. My dick twitched. I could not believe she just did that. My heart accelerated as I looked at her face. She looked shy and angelic as she whispered, "Right here."

"Oh, fuck…" I didn't know what to do. This was insane that this was happening. All I kept thinking was that she wasn't in the right state of mind for this, that this was supposed to be special, but I didn't want to make her feel ugly or unwanted like I had earlier when I told her I couldn't wash her and then again when I wouldn't respond to her advances after the bath. The feeling of her heat underneath my hand was interrupting my thoughts, though. I didn't immediately know what to say. She was in my boxers. They were thin. I could feel her, soft and damp, underneath my palm. I couldn't think.

Taking a few breaths, I composed myself. I thought about what I could possibly do…With her hand still cupped in mine I asked her, "Katniss…" This was too much. But I was going to go with it. "Katniss, have you ever touched yourself?"

"What? Like…like down there?" She looked down at our hands and lifted her fingers a bit, tracing my hand and avoiding my eyes like this topic made her nervous.

"Yeah," I answered.

"No…I thought only guys did that."

I chuckled. "No…girls can do it too. Anybody can do it."

"Oh," is all she said to that. Then she began to get curious. "Have _you_ ever touched yourself…like that?"

"Yeah," my voice squeaked. "Yeah," I said again, hopefully more huskily.

"Do you still do it?"

"Yeah…sometimes."

"What do you think about? When you do it?"

I was unashamed as I looked in her beautiful eyes and said, "You, Katniss. I think of you."

"Oh."

I switched the places of our hands so that mine was now on top of hers guiding her. "Here, just move your hand around until it feels good…pretend it's me," I whispered. I kept my hand on hers and kissed her neck, moving in small circles and staring at Katniss' mouth as she moaned and her face contorted in pleasure. Then I removed my hand so she could touch herself and make herself feel good. After a few seconds, though, she stilled and a huff of air came through her lips.

"What is it?"

"I'm so frustrated! There's so much I don't understand."

"What do you mean? Like what?"

"Like everything. I don't know anything and you're here kissing me and touching me and telling me what to do like you've had all this experience and you're the only person I've ever kissed and I'm scared and I don't know what to do! I just don't know what to do." That was a lot to get out in one breath.

"Sweetie, please relax for a minute…Nothing to get upset about… It's just me here, remember? I…I'm flattered you think I have all this experience, but I've only kissed one other girl before….and it was nothing compared to you. And this is honestly nothing I've ever done. So we're in the same boat," I said and winked at her.

"But you're so good at everything," she said.

I smiled gently at her. "Well, thanks… But the only stuff I know is from my brothers…This isn't a contest or anything, though, baby…it's just us…"

"I know. It just… feels weird with you watching. Can you do it? So I can feel better?"

The things that came out of this woman's mouth. I just shouldn't be shocked anymore. Now I became nervous. If I couldn't even wash her earlier, how on earth would I manage to do something like this? My pants were painfully tight. She was so incredibly amazing. "I—I don't—you're not serious?"

"Peeta, _please_," she said with a look of pain on her face. I sighed. I knew the feeling. It was frustrating, and here she was and had no idea how to relieve it.

"I could try to, if that's what you want," I told her. She was going to kill me in the morning.

I looked down at my hand that had never moved from her. I desperately hoped that I was doing what my brothers had said to do when it came to this kind of stuff… I moved my fingers around on the softest spot I could feel towards the top and began to move very gently in circles. I looked at her face and she was watching my hand, too, her mouth agape and a foreign look in her eyes. "Okay?" I asked her as I looked up at her face, and she vigorously nodded.

"Kiss me," she ordered.

I seriously couldn't believe this was reality. I was going to explode. I was going to come in my pants, and I was going to die right there.

"C'mere," she said softly. I was too in awe of current events to even move. Her words made me come back to reality, and I slid back beside her. I peaked back down at my hand… I couldn't believe that I was rubbing Katniss. I made impossibly small movements of my hips to try to ease the friction in my jeans. It was almost too much to bear. I was sure my mouth was open like an idiot. Katniss saw me looked down and grabbed my face to force me to kiss her. She pressed her lips to mine, and we got lost in mutual pleasure. Her body slowly began to rock against my hand, and I groaned at how unbelievably sexy that was. When her hips began to jerk upwards, I sped up my movements and applied the tiniest bit more pressure. This caused her kisses to turn from passionate to desperate, and she whimpered into my mouth. These high-pitched noises she was making were going to be engrained in my memory forever.

Suddenly her lips stopped responding to his kisses but didn't move from mine. I moved my mouth down to her neck to kiss her there, and then quickly decided to stop so I could back up and watch Katniss' face. She looked so sexy. Her coiled muscles, her body rubbing against my hand…her eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy and her mouth was wide open, panting and moaning into the air. _I was doing that to her,_ I thought. It was _me_ making her feel this way.

Soon she tensed, and I anxiously looked at her face as her mouth opened even wider and out came _the _sexiest moans from her mouth. She called out my name as her body jerked one final time, and then she pushed my hand away.

Her eyes looked up at my wide ones, and she chuckled.

"Okay?" I asked her again.

"I'm…_great_."

I pulled her to me and put my hand over her fast-beating heart. That was freakin' incredible. I had just given Katniss what I could safely bet was her first orgasm. And she probably wouldn't even remember it. A giant tidal wave of guilt ran over me. Again, I was a horrible person. I turned off the lamp from my side of the bed and leaned over to kiss Katniss' temple. What on earth was I going to do?

After her breathing even out, I thought she was asleep so I untangled my limbs from her and rolled over to think about how I was going to handle this. Tell her about it or don't tell her about it? My actions were inexcusable. I laid there for a long time staring at the ceiling until her voice came from the darkness: "I have to pee." Something fell off of the nightstand as she stood up, so I turned on the lamp on my side and got up to escort her in there. She had managed to hit her foot on the side of the bed before I could even get to her side. As she groaned in pain, I noticed that her ankle looked funny. "What the hell," I said to myself, examining her ankle that now didn't even resemble a bone but a softball under skin. "Katniss, when did this happen?" How did I not notice this before?

"Hmm? What?" she asked and wobbled around unsteadily. She was still so drunk. Jesus. "Your ankle, Katniss, it looks horrible!"

"_Your_ ankle looks horrible," she said.

I sighed deeply. "Let's go pee. Lean against me, and I'll help you in there."

She was rocking back and forth on the toilet. "Peeta, stop watching me pee!" she said.

"You might fall off," I logically replied. "Just pee, and we'll go to sleep."

"Ugghh," is all she said. Getting a little impatient that she was that worried about me watching her pee after all of tonight's escapades, I turned on the faucet. "Now I won't hear you. And I'm not watching. Pee."

"Kay," she said. Moments later, I walked her back into the room and helped her get back in bed.

"Stay right there. I'm going to get a bandage for your ankle." I ran downstairs to get the First Aid kit to find a bandage. I didn't know whether or not to get a packet of ice or something too. I just stuck with the bandage and ran back up the stairs. By the time I came back to the bedroom, she was snoring. I looked at her sleeping form…Perfect.

I wrapped up her ankle the best I could and sat down on the edge of the bed. I ran my fingers through my hair. I had so much freaking tension. This evening had had the craziest turn of events that I could have ever imagined. Katniss passed out on the kitchen table, Katniss puking, Katniss seducing me, Katniss orgasming… I couldn't process it all right now. I just knew that I had to get rid of this tension. I'd been suppressing it for too long. I stepped into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the shower.

The room filled with steam and I hurriedly pulled off my shirt and pulled down my jeans and boxers, kicking them off into the corner. Anticipation filled me as I opened the shower curtain, stepped in, and let the hot water rush over my face. My head dropped forward and I looked down at my cock, so painfully hard all night long, standing alert and ready for release.

I imagined a different scene than what had just happened, even though what had just happened was amazing. I took the bar of soap and ran it over my chest, lathering myself up as I let myself enjoy the way Katniss made me feel…

She would be on top of me, but I'd be encouraging the dry-humping instead of trying to stop it. I'd grip her ass and pull her even closer than she had gotten earlier…I'd make her feel exactly how hard she made me and tell her that only she had that effect on me.

What would it have been like without the shirt? I imagined her sitting up while straddling me and lifting her shirt over her head. I'd finally get to reach out and touch her perfect breasts, and she would look at me and moan out my name as I touched her nipples.

My soapy hand followed the path I wanted Katniss to follow…down my chest, over my stomach, finally touching myself where she had cupped me earlier that night and I had stopped her. I leaned heavily on the one arm supporting me against the tile and wrapped my other hand around my erection. My mouth dropped open, and I continued fantasizing about Katniss undressing me. She would hop off of my lap and take off my clothes without breaking eye-contact. I'd be completely naked on the bed, and I would catch her staring at my hardness before reaching out with her soft hands and enveloping me with perfect pressure. She'd begin with a slow rhythm as she stretched her body against mine, one hand jerking me and the other behind my neck and in my hair like she liked, pulling my lips to hers in an aggressive kiss. This fantasy Katniss would pump me just like I was doing to myself right now.

I stroked myself harder and faster as I thought of this playing out in real life. I felt the orgasm building up inside me… It was her image I focused on and her name I called out as blinding pleasure overcame me and I came all over the wall in a mixture of relief and guilt.

I stood there for a long time before my breath normalized under the hot spray of the shower. That was by far the best orgasm I'd ever had. I washed up the bath wall and turned off the shower so I could dry off. I put on the pair of sweatpants and the tank top I laid out for myself and headed for bed. Katniss was snoring quite loudly and was taking up almost the whole bed. I gingerly moved her to the side of the bed she seemed to like and snuggled up next to her.

Not caring what retaliation I would get from this decision tomorrow, I made the choice then and there to take the entire day off to be with my girl.

**Katniss' POV**

I was in hell. I had died and gone to hell. Everything—and I mean everything—on my body hurt. Most prevalently my head. My mouth was dry, and my throat burned, and my body ached. My abs beneath my ribs ached, and my stomach was queasy. My ankle was throbbing for some reason, and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I opened my eyes a bit more and recognized that I was in Peeta's room. Yesterday came rushing back like a freight train and I inwardly groaned. I got drunk with Haymitch in the forest. What even happened after that? I noticed it getting kind of dark and made my way to Peeta's house. And that's where my memory stopped. Awesome.

The light coming in from the window was making my migraine worse. I was a slew of complaints because I, Katniss Everdeen, was hungover. I rolled to my side and saw that Peeta was gone. I wished that just for once I could wake up with him still in the damn bed…but on second thought I probably looked like shit, so I guess it was best he wasn't there.

I lifted my head from the pillow and groaned aloud. It hurt soo much. I had to pee though, so I made myself get up and drag my lifeless, aching body to the bathroom. As I put my feet on the floor, however, a terrible pain prevented me from standing up. I looked down and saw a bandage wrapped around my entire right foot up to my ankle. I bent down and began to unwrap it, just this small movement making me feel nauseous. Great, my ankle was swollen and sore underneath the bandage. Somehow I had succeeded in spraining it last night. What else did I not remember doing?


	4. Chapter 4

My internal alarm clock woke me up before sunrise, and the events from last night flooded my mind. Shame washed over me as I looked over at Katniss' sleeping form. Her tangled hair lay all over my pillow in waves, and her chest steadily rose and fell with deep breaths. I stayed under the sheets while I battled with myself over what to do. I guess I'd have to wait until she woke up to see what her thoughts were and how much she remembered. Even if she _did_ remember what transpired, she was drunk, and I shouldn't have done anything at all. I should have kept my hands to myself. I deeply regretted taking advantage of her intoxication. I didn't know how to apologize, but I knew that I would have to later on in the day whether she acknowledged what I was sorry for or not.

Frowning, I quietly changed into some clothes as I found a piece of paper and a pen to jot a quick note to her.

_Katniss,_

_I'll be here at the house all day (no work!), but I have a few errands to run._

_See you shortly,_

_Peeta_

I put it on the nightstand closest to her and put the glass of water from last night on top of the corner. Then I opened the bottle of Tylenol and put a few pills in the other corner. There. If she wakes up, she should be set.

The smell of coffee wafted up the stairs as I made my way to the kitchen. A few days ago, I had set the coffee maker to automatically brew around this time so it'd be ready for when I left for work. I fixed myself a cup and sat down at the table. There in the middle of the table was that Mason jar half-full of moonshine from yesterday evening. I opened it and sniffed. Wooeee, it was strong. To be honest, it would probably have done _me_ over after only a few swigs. How in the world Katniss stayed semi-conscious for as long as she did was a surprise.

I thought back to her erratic, albeit hot, behavior again. Would she have done those things sober? Would she ever? Could she think of us being _together_ together? I wanted more than anything to be an actual couple, but I knew that Katniss wasn't entirely sincere in the arena. Her actions confused me. I just didn't know what she wanted. I still didn't know for sure about Gale. I just couldn't believe that she didn't have feelings for him, or hadn't ever had feelings for him. I knew I couldn't compare to that guy. I wallowed over my unwise choices last night some more while I finished my coffee.

Regardless of what she wanted, I was out of line. Completely out of line. I'd be surprised now if she even wanted to be in the same room as me. Depression slowly spread through my body as my mind ate itself away with worry.

I was about to pick up the shine to dump it down the drain, but I changed my mind. Taking it in my hand, I walked outside to my neighbor's house and rang the doorbell. In only my sweatpants and a tank top, the morning air was chilly, only making my leg hurt worse than it had been, but I was on a mission.

No one answered the door, of course—the sun was just rising. I obnoxiously rang the doorbell again…four, five, six times in a row. He _was_ going to answer, dammit.

Eventually the door opened, and I was greeted by the beautiful sight of Haymitch in a robe, his haggard face covered in stubble and his long hair sticking in ten different directions. He squinted as he opened the door wider to allow me to come in.

"Wha'ss your problem, man? It's seven in the mornin'," he slurred at me as he stumbled to his couch to sit down. He had a beer in his hand. The sound of him popping the can open echoed in the empty, undecorated room.

I lifted up the jar in my hands and looked at Haymitch challengingly. "Care to explain this?" I asked him. He chuckled and scratched the area between his legs.

"Look, I didn't force 'er ta drink it," he said, "she wanted to!"

"And that's fine," I said. "She can do whatever she wants. But why did you let her drink so much? And _keep_ it?"

"She wanted to…and she can do whatever she wants, right?" he repeated as he sprawled his legs out on the couch.

"Haymitch, you irresponsible asshole! She's never been drunk in her life and you just give her a jar of moonshine!" I didn't understand him. What's done is done, and I couldn't do anything to change the past, but I was letting out all of my frustration on him because he was an available and easy target. And because I couldn't keep it pent up anymore. I opened the jar and poured the liquid down the drain in the kitchen sink. Haymitch made a disapproving noise but didn't seem to be too perturbed, which meant he probably had more.

"You can't protect her forever, loverboy," Haymitch said as I sat down in a chair in the living room. Frowning, I responded that I knew that. "The girl's built walls, she is an impenetrable fortress, and liquor seemed to help her." He hiccupped. "For the time being," he added. "Good luck with her bright outlook on life."

"You're one to talk," I said. "You've spent your whole life drunk trying to forget about being a victor. She's been through a lot, but she can't turn into you. There's hope for her."

He was starting to go back to sleep with the beer in his hand but looked completely alert and sober as he spoke from the couch without even slurring, "Every single kid I have mentored has died, son. Every one of 'em. Imagine miraculously winning the Hunger Games to come back as one of the only victors ever from Twelve only to watch people I train die year after year."

He turned to me and looked in my eyes. I listened to him intently. I realized I had never heard this story before, and I really didn't know what Haymitch had gone through during his own Hunger Games. I almost felt bad for never asking.

"I came back to Twelve to a murdered family and girlfriend. Only to be forced to train kids who don't stand a chance in the arena again and again and again. I watched 'em die. The Capitol never leaves, kid. They never stop watching. They're always with you, in your nightmares, in your paranoia. Forcing you to partake in the Hunger Games each year as a mentor. You'll see. It'll be y'all someday. And Katniss will be even more broken than she is now," he said, finally closing his eyes and dozing off.

I was more depressed than before as I left his house. I felt something new, something like sympathy, when I considered Haymitch and his life's story. That can't be us. We can't grow up to be like that. We wouldn't. Our bond is stronger than the Capitol. Isn't it?

I then walked to the bakery, hobbling slightly. Now my bad leg was starting to _really_ hurt from its overuse this past week. The wound on my leg from the Games had never fully healed. I tried to forget about it, but it throbbed with each step. It was a good thing I was taking the day off because I really needed to rest.

I became anxious with anticipation as I neared the bakery, wondering how everyone would react to what I was about to tell them. I was sure they were going to tell me that I was crazy and that no, you can't just 'take a day off,' but I didn't care. I'd been working nine days straight. I mentally prepared myself with the upcoming conversation with my mother. Still in a bad mood from the meeting with Haymitch, I could tell that my meeting with Mother wouldn't likely be good. She liked me quiet and obedient, and today I wasn't going to take any shit from her.

The bell on the door rang as I opened it and trudged inside. "Where the hell have you been?" my brother asked. It was a little past nine now. My visit with Haymitch and the subsequent walk to the merchant's square had taken up most of the morning. "Shut up," was my only reply to him as I walked around the counter. He wasn't done speaking to me, but I walked into the back room as he was mid-sentence, probably mid-complaint. I didn't care that he was upset that it was nine in the morning and I hadn't been there to open up. I didn't care that he had to work my shifts when I was in the arena. I just didn't care anymore.

"Dad," I said, walking into the back and seeing him in the corner putting some bowls away. He didn't hear me.

"Dad!" I repeated.

He wiped his hands on his apron and looked up. "Hey, son, you alright?" he said, smiling at me, not phased in the slightest by my tardiness.

"Yeah," I answered, but thought better on it. "No, no, actually I'm not. I'm not feeling good today. I came in to tell you I'm not going to be working today."

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, everything's fine, but Dad, I've been working every day since I got back. And…I need a break," I explained to him.

"Oh, wow, I hadn't realized that," he said. "Why don't you take today and tomorrow off, then. Rest up." He smiled at me and resumed working.

Yes! This was great, easier than I had originally thought. I didn't have to deal with my mother, and Dad had given me the entire weekend off!

"Thank you! Thanks, Dad. I'll see you Monday morning, then," I told him as I walked back into the front shop. My smile fell as I saw my two brothers staring at me from behind the counter. I guess they had overheard the conversation I just had, even though only one of them was even in the room when I arrived. Then my mom's presence suddenly filled the air like a sour sense of dread, and I felt my trepidation before I even saw her. I wanted to run away but found myself glued to the spot.

I looked around and saw her sitting at the small table near the corner. "What the hell was that?" she asked me in a voice lower than a whisper. Mom did that to get under our skin because my older brothers and I learned to tune out her shrills, as funny as that sounds. She must've thought she was more intimidating when she kept her voice low.

I dared to look up into her eyes. "I just got the weekend off," I answered. I really hoped that that would be it and that I would be on my way, but with my mother, it was never that easy.

"So you come in here three hours late just to tell us—TELL us, not ask us—that you're taking the weekend off," she confirmed sardonically.

"Actually, I did ask. But I wasn't going to take no for an answer, so yeah, I guess you could say that I _did_ come here three hours late to tell you I'm not working this weekend," I responded. Let's see how she liked that. Back-talking did not fly with Mrs. Mellark. My brothers were behind the register watching us like this was entertainment. I never sassed Mom. They looked surprised and a little fearful as I crossed my arms over my chest.

Mom surprised us all when she jumped out of her chair and grabbed a rolling pin from a nearby table, lifting it above her head and charging towards me. What was that even doing out here in the shop area? It was one of Mom's favorite hitting tools; I guess she had it in here with her because she knew she was about to use it on me.

My reflexes still sharp from the arena, I lifted my right hand to grab the rolling pin from her grasp and threw it on the ground, where it loudly broke in two pieces. Everyone was deadly quiet as they looked at me in shock. Poor, meek Peeta had suddenly lashed out against his abuser. Never in sixteen years had I ever done anything to defy my mother. I usually just crouched until the beating was done, took the slaps to the face without back-lashing. _Those days were over_, I thought bitterly. I'd had enough.

"What are you going to do now, Mom?" I taunted her. "Hit me? Do it!" I challenged her. "Do it! Right here in the shop where a customer can walk in!" I knew she wouldn't dare do it because it'd tarnish her reputation around the market. She was probably internally kicking herself for almost hitting me with the rolling pin out here in the shop where anybody could have seen. These kinds of things were best kept behind closed doors.

Dad walked into the shop from the back because of the loud shouting, I supposed. "What on earth is going on?" he asked, taking in the scene.

"Your lunatic son has been driven even crazier by those damn Hunger Games, that's what's going on," Mother told Dad. "He's in here breaking shit!" Dad opened his mouth to speak but shut it just as quickly.

Years of being walked on flooded my memory. I realized I didn't have to put up with it any longer. "You're nothing, Mom. You're nothing to me. You never even cared if I lived or died in that arena. You never had faith in me. And you two," I said, pointing to my brothers behind the counter, "thanks for all of your love and support, too. It really kept me going."

Figuring it was now or never, I walked out of the shop, the bell eerily ringing as the door swung shut behind me. I smiled ear to ear. For some reason, I was somewhat proud of that exchange. My heart swelled for once for finally sticking up for myself in front of my family who, for so long, had just used me as cheap labor. I thought of the rolling pin that I had broken. How had I managed to do that? Modest as I was, I thought that was kind of impressive. I was happy. Truthfully, I was also terrified of Monday morning, but I forced myself to focus on this good feeling I had as I walked back to Victor's Village to Katniss.

I peeked in on her when I got home and saw she was still asleep. I kept the door open as I tip-toed downstairs to "the drawing room" as I labeled it. It was a room I used to paint in because it was always full of natural light. I hadn't really had the chance to come to terms with what I was feeling, so painting always helped. I needed to talk to Katniss badly to get this off of my chest, to tell her how insanely sorry I was for sexualizing this thing that we shared. However, I couldn't deny that I had…_sexual_ feelings towards her. I would never, _ever_ push those feelings on her without her wanting it, though. She didn't need that to confuse her. She was obviously already confused with how to deal with all of her emotions after the arena…how to mend relationships and all that with past loved ones…

I got out a blank canvas and situated all of my painting supplies near my easel. This painting would be of Katniss because I couldn't seem to get her out of my mind. I drew the outline of her sleeping form as I remembered it from this morning, the bright morning light shining on her features in a beatific show of beauty. I didn't get the chance to begin painting, but at least I finished the outline. I had to stop because I heard footsteps upstairs. I needed to go and talk to her.

**Katniss' POV**

I let out the contents of my stomach and tried to clean up the best I could. Looking in the mirror, I noted that I looked horrible. My eyes were bloodshot and my face was pale, and my hair had half-dried on the pillow in a mess of tangles. I looked away, honestly not caring at the moment as long as I could crawl back into bed. Peeta was there to greet me as I left the bathroom and pulled back the covers.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," he said.

"Yeah, right." I snuggled some more into the blanket's warmth and willed this feeling to go away. I wanted to die.

"I'm sure you don't feel too good right now, do you?" he chuckled.

"I want death," I told him, my voice muffled by the pillow I just placed over my head.

He approached the bed and said, "You haven't drank any of your water. You really should, you know." He moved the pillow off my head and ordered me to sit up. "Just for a second. I know you don't want to."

He placed the glass to my mouth, and I found the straw between my lips and sucked some fluid down. A straw, seriously? Peeta amazed me. I suddenly wondered if he had to baby me like this last night, too.

"Peeta? What even happened last night? Do you know?" I asked him even though I wasn't fully prepared for what he was to tell me.

"Well, what do you remember?" he asked in lieu of answering.

I thought really hard. Everything was fuzzy, dream-like. I didn't know what I had dreamed and what was real. "I remember drinking in the woods with Haymitch and then running a lot for some reason, and I remember getting really sick. And…And I think that's all?" I told him. I had also remembered a pretty steamy dream about me and Peeta, but there was no need in telling him that. There was no way I could confuse _that_ with reality, so why divulge that little bit of my subconscious? Embarrassing.

"Well, you did get sick. I can only fill in a few blanks for you, though." He coughed into his hand. "All I know is that I came home from work, and you were asleep at the kitchen table. I took you upstairs to sleep, but then you felt sick and threw up a lot. Then…" He looked anguished as he paused in his story.

"Then?"

"Then you askedmetogiveyouabath," he said in one breath.

What!? "But Katniss," he interjected my thoughts, holding up his hands in surrender, "before you say anything, you _did_ really need a bath because you had puked all over yourself, and I didn't look at anything, I swear," he told me. His eyes pleaded with mine for forgiveness.

"So you did give me a bath, then?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah. But it was just to get you clean," he said.

"Oh, God," I cringed and hid my face in my hands. He had bathed me, had seen me naked. How embarrassing. This was horrifying. I wanted to curl in a ball and hide. I vowed to myself that I would never touch alcohol ever again.

"I...I'm really sorry, Katniss. I'm sorry. I knew you would be mad at me."

I tried to shake my head slightly, but it hurt. "I'm mad at myself, not you. I'm so stupid," I said in a small voice.

Knowing my humiliation was foolish, I uncovered my face. It was about time I be comfortable with my own body, and though I knew deep inside I really wasn't, it made it better that it was Peeta with me and not someone else.

He was just trying to be honest. When he said it was just a bath, I trusted him. He wouldn't lie to me about anything. Anybody else would just not tell me, right? They'd have gawked at the sight of a teen girl's nudity. I sighed. "It's okay. I'm sorry you had to take care of me. I never meant to be a burden to you."

"Katniss, don't be sorry, really. You could never be a burden. I actually like taking care of you."

I looked down at his hand and took it in mine. "Peeta, _I'm_ sorry. I…I don't know what's been going on in my head lately," I said softly.

"It's okay." His thumb brushed the top of my hand. "You can always talk to me, you know," he said.

"Yeah. My head hurts too bad right now, but I know I can't just drink away my problems anymore. I'll try to talk more. Maybe it'll help." I half-heartedly shrugged my shoulders. What could it hurt talking about feelings? Peeta soothed me, made everything better.

"Yeah, it will," Peeta responded and smiled at me. His smile lost some of its brilliance as he removed his hand from mine and cleared his throat. "Katniss, something else happened."

"Oh..." What did I do this time?

"Yeah…So, uh…We were about to go to bed, after the bath, but things got a little…I don't know, out of control… and we touched each other a lot and stuff." I looked at him in confusion. He looked truly remorseful, but I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me.

"What?"

"We were making out, and things got a little intense," he explained in a hushed voice. He wasn't looking at me, instead intently staring at his hands on his lap. "Katniss, I never meant to take advantage of you. I'm so, so sorry."

My eyes widened. I suddenly thought back to my "dream" from last night and flashes of me and Peeta rolling around and groping each other. Was that real?

"Wait just a minute. What exactly does that mean? What happened?"

"Well, we were making out, and you didn't want to stop, so I touched you…down there…and I think you had an orgasm," he whispered.

I sucked in a breath. I couldn't process this. My dream of intense pleasure with Peeta must have been true; he described what I remembered, too. I was surprised, embarrassed, and for some reason scared. It was too much. My flight response was kicking in, and I knew I had to get away. Orgasmed? I barely knew what that meant. That was something for adults…or whores…I didn't understand.

"Katniss…don't hate me, please don't hate me." He stared at the wall in front of him now.

I closed my eyes. "I don't hate you, Peeta. It's just…weird to me." I didn't know what else to say. I had to get out of there. I told him, "Look, I really should be going. I've taken over your bedroom. I need to go home to get some clothes, anyway," I told him.

"Wh—? Oh. Okay," he said, awkwardly standing in the same place staring at the wall. Remembering something, he said, "I forgot I washed your clothes you were wearing last night. They were covered in dirt. I'll go get them so you can head out," he said dully, still without looking at me, and left me alone in the room.

What was wrong with me? I didn't know how to feel. I cared for Peeta; that much was true. And I enjoyed sleeping in the same bed with him, and hugging him, and holding him, and kissing him. I didn't necessarily know if that meant I wanted anything more with him. I don't know the first thing about things like that. I _orgasmed_? I barely knew what that meant. I just knew that whatever it was, it was scary.

He came back with my clean clothes from yesterday. He looked like he wanted to say something but eventually closed the door behind him so I could change. Everything hurt as I put my clothes on, and my ankle was now throbbing. I took four of the Tylenol on the nightstand before limping outside the bedroom and downstairs. I couldn't find Peeta anywhere but knew he had to be there somewhere. I didn't feel like searching for him, so I hollered out, "Bye, Peeta!" as loudly as I could manage and started the long, painful walk back home.

Passing through the market was humiliating. I looked like shit, I knew, and furthermore, I had to hobble down the street because of my damn ankle. I tried to ignore the stares, and it was easy because the sunlight had hurt my eyes and head so badly that I was forced to look down. That didn't stop the people from looking at me, but it stopped me from having to look at them.

"Katniss!" someone shouted from up ahead. I would have completely ignored my name if I hadn't immediately recognized the voice as my little sister's. My head rose to find and meet hers, and her face was one of complete worry. Great.

"Hey, Prim," I greeted her.

"I was just on my way to the bakery to see if maybe Peeta knew where you were. You didn't come home last night. We didn't know where you were," she said.

"Yeah…Sorry. I was staying in Victor's Village," I told her.

"Are you okay? You don't look well," she tentatively said.

I made an evasive noise and shrugged. "Let's go home," I said.

"But…but it's noon on a Saturday, Katniss," she said. Oh. Of course. She was going to try to sell things.

"Right. Look, do you mind if I go home? I don't feel good, and I don't want Mom to worry," I explained to her. Actually, I could care less about Mom, and I'm sure she wasn't worried at all. She didn't know how to feel anything anymore.

"Okay…I'll see you in a little while. Do you need anything?" she asked me. She's such a sweet, innocent girl. I hated that I was hung-over in her presence and that I'd probably have to explain it to her later today. Or someday.

I smiled at her. "Just sleep. Now go make lots of money," I said. She smiled and trotted off down the road.


	5. Chapter 5

Walking home seemed to take forever, either because of my foot or because of my _other_ condition. I was almost home when a door opened and out came two sets of feet running toward me.

"Katniss!" the two kids screamed in unison. Oh, my aching head. I couldn't help but smile down at the kids hugging on me. I hugged them back. "Hi, Vick! Hi, Posy!" I said with all the excitement I could muster. Gale's siblings looked like he did, like I did, like almost everyone from the Seam did. Tan skin, dark hair, gray eyes. They were without shoes and dirty, but smiling. I leaned down to their level and had to put my weight on my knees after my ankle protested. "Have y'all been behaving?" I teased. "Yesssss," they answered and I ruffled their hair. "Is your mommy around?" I asked them.

"Yes! She's inside! I go get her," said Posy.

"No, no. It's okay, tell her I said hi, and I'll stop by later this week, okay?" I did _not _want to be seen anymore today. I looked awful. It was just my luck that right then Hazelle opened the door to tell the kids to wash up for lunch. She stood in the doorway and looked at me as the children ran inside around her legs. I stood frozen, staring at her staring at me, and she said, "Follow me inside." I did because I felt I had no choice. And I liked her, so I didn't really mind any potential scrutiny.

Inside was much darker than the sunny streets outside, and I was thankful.

I stood by the door for a while, re-examining this house I hadn't been inside of in so long. The Hawthorne's house was basically four small rooms, just like my old house. The first room was the living room/dining room/kitchen, but Hazelle had also managed to squeeze more tables in there that had piles and piles of laundry on them. Washing other people's laundry and sheets was a way she made money from home since she couldn't do much else, having all those small kids to take care of. The kids sat down on the couch and started to eat their sandwiches excitedly.

"Shhh!" Hazelle told them as she beckoned for me to follow her into another room. At the end of the living room were three doors. One was a really tiny room that they used as a bathroom, and the other two were bedrooms. Hazelle and Posy shared one room, and Gale, Rory, and Vick shared the other. She opened the door to her room and closed it behind her as I stepped in.

"What are you thinking, girl? Out in broad daylight looking like that," she said without looking at me. I knew she meant well, but I was a little ashamed of her scolding. I respected her, and I didn't want her to think of _me_ disrespectfully. She was opening and closing drawers rapidly, apparently not finding what she was looking for.

"Uh..I was just on my way home," I told her. She stopped her hurried movements long enough to look me in the eyes. "I'll give you some advice," she said. "Hitting the bottle never did nobody no good. It causes more problems, doesn't solve 'em! And now people are going to talk. You're famous now, Katniss. You have to watch what you do," she said.

Hmpf. I didn't want to be famous. I won the Hunger Games, yeah. I managed to come out alive because I had help from Peeta. But it was over. I wanted it to be behind me, yet I knew Hazelle was exactly right. It wasn't behind me. I was still a piece in their Games. I'll never be free.

"You're right," I said. She softly smiled at me and handed me a vial of clear liquid. She ordered me to drink it all, and though it tasted dreadful, I managed to swallow every drop. It immediately soothed my stomach, at least. "Thank you," I told her, feeling much better by the second. "So where's Rory?" I asked.

"Oh, he's out somewhere…" she said thoughtfully. "He's been trying to be like Gale, so he's probably in the woods." Even though we were alone, she whispered, "He hasn't really had much luck, though, so every day he comes home in a sour mood." Everyone here in the Seam is paranoid about being overheard about poaching. Technically it's punishable by murder, but we've always gotten away with it, luckily.

I thought about Rory. Maybe I could help him someday. I thought back to my first teacher (besides my father), Gale. Why couldn't Gale just teach him some stuff? "And where's Gale?" I asked.

"He's sleeping." What? Gale would've called _anybody_ who slept in till noon on a Saturday lazy and worthless. Now look at him! At my astonished face, Hazelle continued, "He's working the hoot-owl shift in the mines now."

"_What_? He dropped out of school?"

"His choice, not mine. He would've been done this year, anyway. Said he wanted to bring in more money for us, and I can't not support that." _But…but…yes, you _can_ be unsupportive of that_, I thought! Gale's father _and_ my own were both blown up in the mines! It was dangerous. And Gale _knew_ that. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked. Beyond shocked. Speechless.

So Gale just dropped out of school and now he was working in the coal mines. I shook my head in disbelief. Hazelle went on, "Eventually he won't have to work night-shift, but he's new, so he does what they tell him." I thought back to my daddy and how he used to work the night-shift, too. We didn't see him that much except before dinner and on the weekends, but he spent every waking minute of his day with me and Prim and Mom.

I reminisced on my childhood. About how we would all eat dinner together before Daddy head out for work in his hard-hat and pail. How he'd be coming home right when we were heading off to school, and we would hug and hug him even though my mom would get upset at getting our clothes dirty before the day even begun. How alive my mother used to be back then. About how I used to call my mother "Mama" until I grew out of it. I thought about how Daddy's death changed all of that, changed my mom and changed me. I wanted to cry. Now Gale was taking the exact same road.

How life had changed in just a few months. Gale, probably trying to prove his manliness, got a job in the mines. He _knew_ how dangerous that was. Back-breaking work for next-to-nothing…putting your life in danger every single day just to support a family you won't even have any time to spend with. I suddenly became mad all over again at him, but I knew that there was hardly much else for work around here. Again, I was struck with the need to escape as thoughts of Gale assaulted my mind. "Hazelle, thanks for the…stuff. It's helping. I'm going home now. If you need anything at all, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay, dear," she said, pulling me into a hug and kissing my cheek. She held me out at arm's length and looking so deep into my eyes I almost felt naked, said, "Take care, Katniss." I looked down and nodded. "It was good seeing you," I told her as I turned around. I silently crept out of the house, waving goodbye to the kids as I left.

Back to squinting in the sunlight, I limped for a few more minutes until I reached the place where I used to live. Home? Should I call this home still? I opened the door to find my mom sitting at the table staring ahead of her out the window. She didn't even look up when I opened and closed the front door. "Hey, Mom," I said. She still didn't look up. "I said, hey, Mom!" I shouted at her. She said, "Oh, hi, sweetie," but didn't move her head or body in my direction. I walked by her to my room and slammed the door.

I sighed. I was finally alone in this place I _once _called home. Lying in bed, I took the opportunity to ponder my emotions.

Life was complicated, that much was for sure. Relationships and feelings were hard enough to deal with, and now Hazelle had just inadvertently added an entire new list of worries to my mind. I was foolish to believe that the Hunger Games were over just because they were "over." That was the entire reason Haymitch and I had gotten drunk together yesterday. All these years later, and the Capitol was still using him to be the mentor in the Hunger Games he so despised. Hell, just in a few months was the Victory Tour. How could I have forgotten about that? It was a helpless situation. The only solace I had was that I knew Peeta would support and protect me no matter what.

Thinking back on this morning, I couldn't justify my emotions. Honestly, it was one of my biggest weaknesses, but I've passed it off as being one of my biggest strengths. Having to rely on survival my entire life, I had no reason to be soft. But recently, Peeta had opened my eyes to an entire world of …something I had never experienced. Was it friendship or something deeper? Could it be love? I didn't know how any of that worked, but it seemed like everything love was supposed to be. I felt different around him. In a good way. Even after everything that had happened yesterday to embarrass me, I knew somehow it would all be okay. I just needed time to be alone to figure my own feelings out.

I curled up under the covers and tried to become comfortable. I suddenly was drifting off to sleep, and I was to have the most vivid and erotic dream of my life.

I was in a huge house, similar to our homes in Victor's Village, and I was staring outside the window, anticipating something. Or someone. Snow was blindingly falling outside, coating the already-packed ground in even more inches of snow. This was a blizzard, and I was alone. Peeta should have come home from work a long time ago. Hours passed with me bundled in a blanket, staring out at the swirls of white blowing in the air and falling on the ground. I finally dared to look at the clock on the wall and became truly afraid when I saw the late hour. It was eleven at night, and the storm was just getting worse.

"Peeta, please, please, please," became my prayer. It was the only thing I could focus on—his name, his safe return. I stared out of the window in vain, afraid I was going to be there all night.

Suddenly the door burst open, and a gust of wind blew snow inside the house. I turned my head quickly in alarm and almost cried out when I saw his figure at the doorstep, his face completely pink and his body bundled in layers and layers of clothes. "Oh, Peeta!" I cried out and threw my arms around him. He stepped further into the foyer and surrounded me with his ice-cold body. Lifting his boot, he kicked the door shut behind us. "Katniss!" he said jubilantly as he returned my embrace and squeezed me. "Oh, God, Katniss," he said again, rocking me back and forth. He stepped back and looked at me. "You've been crying, baby," he observed. I hadn't even realized. "Oh," I said, wiping away my tears. "Well, you scared me to death, Peeta!"

He cupped my face with cold hands. "Come here, honey," he said, and brought me into his arms again. I couldn't stop crying into his coat. He was freezing cold, but I was strangely getting warm by hugging him. "Peeta," I whispered, "I'm so glad you're back." Then I sniffed. "What if you never came back?"

"I'll always find my way back to you," he responded.

Soon his demeanor changed, and he turned me around to press me against the wall with his body. With the thick blanket still around my neck and Peeta in all of his layers, the scene was almost comical, except it wasn't, because it was me and Peeta. That electricity passed through our bodies as we looked each other in the eye. "Peeta," I whispered as his mouth frantically began to kiss my jaw and my neck, removing the blanket and dropping it to the floor. "Yes?" he said huskily. "Peeta, let's go to bed," I pleaded, getting more turned on by the second as his hands suddenly began groping me and his assaults with his mouth became more frantic.

His heavy-lidded eyes met mine. "What's wrong with right here?"

He backed away and effortlessly picked me up. I instinctually wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked into the living room to the fire place. The hood to his jacket fell from his head as he carried me, revealing a messy mat of sweaty blond hair. Bending down and falling to his knees, he gingerly placed me on my back on the carpet in front of the fire. I laid there with my legs partly open around Peeta's thighs. He was sitting on his knees, staring at me lustfully, still fully clothed.

"Take off your clothes," I told him. He was still out of breath from being outside, and he panted as he frantically unsnapped the buttons on his coat. He took off his coat and lifted three layers of shirts off of him all at once until his chest was bared to me. Mmm.

"Kiss me till I can't breathe," I whispered to Peeta, running my hands along my stomach. The sight of me lying immodestly underneath him led Peeta to lean forward and dominate my mouth with his. He thrust his tongue past my lips to possess my mouth. His kisses were harsh but sexy, frantic yet deliberate. They literally did take my breath away and stopped me from thinking about anything but the sensations he was forcing me to feel.

I impatiently writhed beneath his body as he devoured my mouth. His hands firmly gripped me all over my body: my hips, my ass, my breasts. His mouth left mine as he lifted my shirt and bra up above my breasts. His hand cupped my breasts as his tongue licked circles around each nipple, both already taut from anticipation and excitement. My hands ran through his hair, lost in the satisfaction he was bringing me. I sat up to remove my shirt and bra, revealing more skin for Peeta to caress. All of it felt perfect. Being with Peeta was too wonderful for words.

I felt Peeta tugging at my jeans, so I lifted my hips so he could slide them off my tan legs. Peeta had decided to remove my panties, too, so I laid bare underneath his gaze while he gaped at me. "You're the most beautiful sight in the entire world, you know," he lowly spoke. He ran his hand up my leg slowly, slightly tickling me when he stopped just inches away from where I wanted him the most.

Without warning, his thumb brushed along my clit. I gasped and jerked my hips in surprise. _Yes_. He teased me, lowering his thumb to my heat and spreading the warmth around a bit before his index and middle fingers plunged into my center to fill me up. Slowly, they entered and exited my wetness. His eyes that were fixed on what his fingers were doing suddenly looked at mine. "You like that?" he whispered.

"You know I like that," I responded. "Mmmm…" I lifted myself off the floor further into his hand as he fucked me slowly with his fingers. His eyes went back to watching us work together in amazement—my hips rising slowly to match every soft thrust of his fingers.

"Every time my fingers leave you, they're coated with you…You're so, so wet, babe," he whispered to me. His head suddenly descended to me, and he licked and attacked me like he was starving while never removing his fingers from me. Now instead of the in-and-out motion from earlier, he kept them deep inside, moving the tips of them slightly against my inner walls. It was a maddening sensation.

My thighs began to flex against the sides of his head, and I could feel my vagina clenching his fingers as he sped up his movements inside me. I was losing control and loved every second of it. I began to gyrate my hips against Peeta's mouth, and he looked up at me in awe. That moment when our eyes met was the most intimate feeling ever between us. It was something more than just animalistic lust; it was something deeper, something only he and I shared. Though in the middle of a "crude" act, we shared an endearing moment as our eyes communicated all the love and passion we felt for each other. His cobalt blue met my deep gray, and I put my hand on his head, pushing back the hair from his forehead. I lightly tugged a handful of his hair and rolled my head back on the carpet, again closing my eyes as Peeta moaned into me, causing vibrations to run around my body in an indescribable way.

"Oh, God, yes," I moaned as I could feel Peeta increase the speed and pressure of his actions. My other hand automatically fell atop the other side of his head, scrunching up more of his hair. Thank God it was so long…it made it perfect for moments like these…

His tongue was frantically flicking me above his fingers, suckling and rubbing and flicking all at once, and God, it felt good. "Fuuuuck," I said, my legs jerking restlessly as I began a litany of moans and whimpers. My hips lifted off the floor for the last time as I pressed Peeta's head as close to me as I could get it with my hands. Oh, _God_, I was coming. I screamed out loud but couldn't even hear it as wave after wave of _the_ best euphoria washed over every part of my body. Peeta held on as long as he could, softly stroking me slower and gentler as I came down from the edge I had just been pushed over.

When the pleasure was over and I opened my eyes again, Peeta gently placed the lower half of my body back on the rug. His fingers excruciatingly slowly left me, and he lifted them and placed them in his mouth. His eyes sparkled as he watched me watch him.

"Damn, woman," he said after he slid his two fingers off of his tongue, "I could do that all day." Smirking, his eyes bore into mine as he unbuckled his belt and prepared to slide his pants off. His fingers were just pulling down his zipper…

My eyes snapped open and I noticed I was lying in my childhood bed with the sheets bunched all around me as if I had been kicking them. Oh, dear God in Heaven. I had just dreamed that Peeta…I just dreamed Peeta put his mouth on me. Oh, God! I jumped out of bed but immediately remembered my ankle, grabbing it in pain. What was wrong with me? Seriously. Apparently I had turned into a rampant ball of hormones, and I didn't understand why. I didn't used to have dreams like this… Could it have been Mrs. Hawthorn's concoction? Yes, that was probably it…She gave me something for my hangover, and it must have caused me to have this dream.

Already out of bed, I looked around the room. Prim and I shared it, but she must be sleeping with Mom tonight since, from the looks of it, I had been thrashing around in our shared bed. Little, innocent Prim. Such a contrast to me, getting drunk by day and having sex dreams by night.

Everything in the room was dark yet dimly lit from the shine of the moon streaming in through the window. What time was it? Looking on our dresser, a ticking watch told me it was a little past eleven. I had been asleep for about ten hours. Now I was wide awake, again and again relaying that dream. I couldn't go back to sleep if I wanted to. I felt dirty. It seemed wrong, but somehow the Katniss and Peeta _in_ the dream weren't doing anything dirty. It had felt natural and good when I was letting Peeta do that to me. We had felt in love. But that kind of thing was _dirty_, wasn't it? Was I supposed to feel dirty or good? I wanted to kick something out of frustration.

I sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. _Was_ it dirty? Peeta had admitted that we had gone a little further than we ever have last night. He seemed to feel really guilty and sorry about it. So that confirmed that it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't have done it. But the tiny part of my mind that remembered the feeling it brought just wanted more. It didn't want to shy away. It _did_ feel natural! And I kind of wanted to experience it sober.

I admitted to myself that I needed to talk about this with somebody. I needed information. I needed to know what was going on with me. I had nobody to rely on, however, except for Peeta. This morning, what was it that Peeta had said? "You can talk to me," he had said. This was embarrassing to talk to him about, but if all of my…_sexual_ feelings were about him, I knew what I had to do. I stood up again, grabbed a knapsack, and stuffed all types of clothes in it. I was going back to Peeta.

I was considerate and wrote a note to Mom and Prim telling them I was staying in Victor's Village. Closing the door behind me, I limped down the road. It was pitch black outside. For an odd reason, I chose to go a little out of my way to have a word with Gale before I headed in the direction of the village. I needed to know where we stood. If I was honest, I headed there because I wanted him to apologize to me.

Luckily, the coal mines weren't far out of the way. The entire reason the Seam was named the Seam was because it lay so close to seams of coal. Our houses themselves were probably built on seams of coal. Eventually they'll probably have to be burned so the Capitol can get all the coal to all the other districts.

I approached the plant carefully, wondering if I was even allowed there. Then I thought about Hazelle's words: everyone knows who I am. It made me feel vain, but I tried to roll with it. Maybe I could use the fact that I was well-known as an excuse to break the rules.

I walked closer to the mining site after hiding my knapsack; I didn't want Gale to ask about why I had it. On the outer edge were a couple buildings used as offices and I don't know what else, and then the land sloped. At the bottom was a huge area of land filled with equipment and men shouting things at one another. Everything was lit by huge spotlights, but I still couldn't tell what was going on down there. It just looked gray.

A man noticed me staring at the site and approached me from a very small building with some telephones in it. I vaguely remembered seeing him in town before, but I could tell he knew me immediately by the way he looked at me. "Well, hey, darlin'," he said, "What can I do ya for?"

"Uh, hi. Can you tell me if or where Gale Hawthorne is working tonight?" From behind the man I was talking to emerged a pretty red-head with her hair in some fancy up-do. She stepped forward and answered my question with a smile, "Yes, he's right over there," she said, pointing to a large excavating crew to the right.

The man I had originally questioned stepped away and muttered something under his breath. I saw him spit brown liquid on the dirt as he walked away agitated.

Instead of offering to get Gale for me, the lady seemed to want to have a conversation. It annoyed me, but maybe she recognized me, too. I sure as hell had never seen her before. I actually had never seen anybody with red hair before except in the Capitol. It was very rare here. But in the Capitol it would be _red_ red, whereas this was orangey-red. It was still uncommon.

"I'm Penny," she supplied. I didn't care.

"I'm Katniss."

"What a unique name. Are you Gale's sister?" she asked.

"No. No…I'm just a friend," I said. "Sorry to come here, but it's important." Was it important? I didn't even know what I was there for.

"Oh, that's just fine," she said, still smiling brightly. "Gale is such a good worker that he deserves a little break! He'd probably still get more work done than these old fellows if he took an _hour_ break!" She leaned in close and said in my ear, "Nice and young, you know. Lots of energy."

What the hell? "Uh…yeah," I said. "Thanks."

I didn't want to seem rude or anything, because I knew that women can be hard workers (just look at Hazelle), but I've never seen a woman near the mines before. It was typically men's work. She didn't look dirty, so maybe she just did clerical work. In a mine, though? I didn't know. I didn't know the first thing about this line of work. How I'd never seen her before was confusing, though. And I didn't like it at all how she was commenting about Gale. Her voice was strange, like she wasn't from around the mountains here, and she looked to be in her twenties maybe. Something about her threw me off. I didn't like her. But, then again, most girls I don't like. She was nice enough, though. Smiley.

Moments later, Gale emerged with every inch of skin covered in black dust. I immediately imagined that dust going into his lungs and felt very sorry for him. Without greeting one another, he silently led me to a semi-secluded area enough away from the site that we could still hear and see it, but far enough away that we could talk without yelling. There was a metal fence in front of us crudely made out of poles welded together, and we both rested our forearms on it, looking out at the bright lights and loud machines down below.

"You're not supposed to be here," he greeted me.

"Great to see you, too," I said.

He chuckled, but I could tell he was aggravated with me. "You're lucky I'm not underground today. We're just doing surface work today," he explained as if I knew anything about coal mining. I just knew it was dangerous and unhealthy. "Oh," I responded.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked me. I just shrugged and told him something about not being able to sleep and wanting to see him. He didn't respond, and for a long while, we were quiet.

Gale broke the moment's silence and without looking at me said, "Heard you're takin' to drinking."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard. Mom said you smelled like a brewery today," he said. Damn Gale. Damn him to hell. I hated him so much, but something still drew me to him. Companionship? The past? I thought about how some people just stayed together out of convenience and habit when they don't even care about each other anymore. Is that what this has become? A friendship of convenience?

"And how is that any of your business?" I asked. My haunches were raised now; I was on the defensive.

"Didn't say it was. Do what you want, Katniss. You've already proven that you're going to do it, anyway," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raised my voice. He sighed and turned his body towards mine, still leaning on the metal fence.

"It's supposed to mean what I said, that you're going to do what you want to do. You've always been like that."

"So? So have you. So have a lot of people. Why wouldn't people do what they want to do?"

"I didn't say any of that. I know. I was just stating a fact."

"And what's your point?!" He was frustrating me.

"I don't know, Katniss." His hands moved wildly in the air out of…annoyance? Frustration? Trying to find the right words to say? "I just wish you could come to me with your problems. You don't have to get drunk to avoid them, you know. I'm here for you to talk to."

"Obviously, you're not, Gale. When am I going to talk to you? Should I set my alarm so I can meet you on your lunch break at two in the morning?"

"Look, I'm doing what I have to do. I wish you'd understand that." The thing was, I _did_ understand that. I just hated it. Why did life have to be like this? Why couldn't we just have it easier? We were both silent for a long time until I said, "Your boss seems to have a thing for you."

"What?"

"The red-headed lady. You should've seen her face light up when I said your name. I wasn't even talking to her, and once I said your name, she just came running. 'Ohh, Gale, he's such a big, strong worker.'" I mimicked her nasal-sounding voice.

"You're jealous, Katniss. You don't even know her. Stop being so rude."

"I can be whatever way I want to be. I think I deserve to be a little bitter, don't you?" He knew what I was referring to.

"While you're being bitter, just remember I took care of your family. I didn't have to do that."

"You took care of them doing what you've always done: hunting and selling meat. Which you should still be doing instead of working here!" I yelled.

"Oh, excuse me, I forgot you know what's best for me," he said sarcastically.

"Fine. Get yourself blown up! I don't care!" I shouted. I wanted to let loose on Gale, and now was a perfect time.

"Stop, Katniss. Just stop. Let's not argue," he reasoned. But I _wanted_ to argue. I wanted a good fight. Why didn't he see that? I scowled and looked out on the work-site again. "Though you're kind of cute when you're worked up," he said, tugging my braid.

I deepened my scowl and pushed his arm away from me. I was so confused. I liked Gale as a friend, but I didn't want him to touch me. At least not in this…_flirty_ way. I didn't like Gale romantically, but I was jealous when that red-head lady was bragging about him. I thought again about my selfishness. What did I really want?

"Okay, okay, sorry," he said. He went back to being the distant Gale from before. "Still spending time with Bread Boy?" he asked.

"Yes," I said and left it at that.

"I see," he answered. "Look, this has been fun, but I've got to go back to work. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah," I said, defeated. "Maybe." I watched as he walked away from me, becoming smaller and smaller as he headed down towards the site. I continued watching him for a few moments shoveling coal into a boxcar, noting how he made it look easy. Something about him was disconcerting. Was he changing or was I? I found myself trusting him less and less when I wasn't even exactly sure why.

I looked away and started walking. I walked until I didn't see the bright lights shining anymore, making it easier for the men to see. I walked until I didn't hear any loud beeping from the mining equipment. I walked until I heard complete silence.

It stayed that way until I reached the market area. Off in the distance was the Hob, and a few lights were shining dimly from its porch. I decided to venture over there, more out of curiosity than anything else. It was past midnight by now, and there were many people talking both inside and outside the old warehouse. I wondered what business could possibly be going on this late.

"Katniss!" Greasy Sae said as I got closer to the entrance. Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, she stood up and asked me what was wrong.

"Nothing," I said, wincing as I tried to walk up the steps to the inside. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Something wrong with your foot?" she asked. I nodded, "Just sprained my ankle. I'll be fine."

"Sit here. You don't need to be going inside here after dark, Katniss. Show me your foot." I protested, but she insisted.

Only because it was Sae did I move to take my boot off. Maybe she had some secret recipe to help it or something. Cringing, I unwrapped the bandage around my ankle and lifted it to the porch-light. She made a face. "Are you sure it ain't broke?" she asked.

"I can't tell. It just hurts."

"I bet. Why hasn't your mama helped you heal this?" she asked.

"Well, she doesn't really know about it," I explained. She sighed and told me to wait on the porch while she got something to help. By the time I had finished re-wrapping my foot, she re-emerged with a small bag of what felt like beans. Leaning close to my face, she handed me the pouch. "Swallow a few of these if you're in pain," she instructed quietly, "but wait until you leave here."

"But…what is it?" I asked.

"Poppy seeds," she whispered even lower. "Be careful with them, and get your Ma to look at your ankle tomorrow," she added. "And here, this is a cane you can use. I can tell you can't walk too good. Give it back, now!" she said.

I wanted to deny the gift, but I really could use something to help me walk. It was really just a finely-whittled tree limb. "Okay, I'll give it back. Where did you get poppy seeds?" I curiously asked.

"Don't you worry about that, just swallow a few or chew them first if you're feeling pain, okay?"

"Okay…Thank you, thank you so much," I told her, standing up to leave. She looked glad to have me go. She told me goodbye and to be careful on my way back home. I smiled to myself. _Home_. With Peeta.

I walked a little easier with the walking stick. I didn't stop again until I reached Peeta's door.

It was late, and he was probably asleep, but I knocked on the front door anyway. When he didn't answer, I rang the doorbell. Eventually the door opened, and I saw a sleepy-eyed Peeta looking at me in astonishment. His eyes were red-rimmed. From sleep? From crying?

"Katniss!" he said in shock.

"Hey," I shyly greeted him. I felt guilty for abandoning him earlier. He smiled and opened his arms so he could hug me, but it seemed more like a question because he didn't move forward. I walked into the hug and squeezed him tightly, trying to have a conversation with him through this hug. I love you, Peeta. I'm a horribly confusing person, and I know my actions and my words hardly ever match up, and I'm sorry, and I love you, and I don't want to sleep another night without you.

I backed away out of the hug, but we still held on to each other loosely. "I thought you weren't coming back," he said.

I thought back to my steamy dream that was so full of love. Though I usually hated cheesiness, the words from my dream were perfect, so I repeated them.

"I'll always find my way back to you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Peeta's POV**

I heard the door shut but didn't acknowledge it from my position in the downstairs bathroom. I was staring at my reflection in the mirror, willing myself not to cry. I freaked her out. I freaked her out, and now she had left. I wondered what on earth I was going to do. Should I write her a letter? Or should I just leave her alone? I didn't know if I was supposed to chase her or let her be. But if I let her be, when would I see her again? It could be days before she decided to be on speaking-terms with me again.

I tried as hard as I could to prevent them from leaving, but the tears spilled out anyway. I have this habit of thinking of all these horrible things when I start to cry, because if I'm crying to begin with, I figure why not make it a "good" cry and just let it all out… I guess it's a stupid thing to do, but I sat on the toilet and bawled my eyes out for a good five minutes. I was alone, so no one was there to ridicule me. All of my sadness came out at one time.

I thought about what Haymitch had said about my looming destiny. I'd never have freedom from the Hunger Games, not really. He was right: one of these days I'd have to be a mentor, too. I thought about my family's put-downs and my mother's cruelty. Every negative thing my family had ever told me came to my mind, and I cried some more at the injustice I'd tolerated.

Mostly I thought about Katniss. I hoped I didn't ruin what we had, not after we were doing better. _I_ thought we were doing better. I was more pissed at myself than I could comprehend. I wished I could take all of my actions from last night back. I ruined all of my chances in a few hours' time.

I willed myself to breathe and calm down. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. She'd come back, right? The fact that I couldn't predict with certainty whether or not she'd return wasn't helping. I stood up, looked in the mirror at my tear-stained face, and laughed at myself. I was a pretty sad excuse for a man. I splashed my face with water and staggered back upstairs.

I had taken the day off intending to care for Katniss, but now I had nothing to do. I didn't want to paint because now I wasn't in the mood. I ended up taking a ridiculously long nap and woke up sweaty and alone that evening. I'd been having these nasty dreams since leaving the arena. They've been one hundred times worse than anything I'd ever wish on anybody else, even my worst enemy. I always wake up feeling like I can't breathe with my body and hair covered in sweat. I can't begin to describe all of the images in my nightmares or the complete horror they make me feel. I just try to push them away the best I can and replace them with happier thoughts. Tonight, though, I didn't have much to keep me going. I succumbed to the depression, feeling helpless.

The sun was setting outside. I stared at its calming beauty for a second before looking away, not even wanting to feel positive at the moment. I went into the bathroom and turned the water on for a bath. Then I remembered I couldn't take a bath because of my leg, so I unplugged the stopper.

My leg felt like it was going to fall off. After undressing, I examined my wound closer, and the sight repulsed even me. How could anyone else ever find me attractive? I had a giant half-wound/half-scar on my outer thigh towards the top. It wasn't a regular scar or even a bad scar. It was a monstrous scar, like a "my leg should have been amputated" scar. Mangled, discolored flesh was in the place of regular, smooth skin. Black-looking skin covered half the wound. It was disgusting. _At least I still had my leg_, I thought with mild sarcasm, though I acknowledged that it had proven to be more of a hindrance lately than anything. If it hadn't been for Katniss, I wouldn't have my leg _or_ my life, so I stopped being so negative and hopped in the bath.

Automatically my thoughts focused on last night again, about this bathtub, the scene of the crime. Crime number one. I had committed a few crimes because I had refused to think clearly last night. It would be nice if I could think back on the bath as sensual and exciting, but now knowing it made Katniss feel weird made the whole thing seem wrong. Which I knew it was at the time, so why was I even surprised? I knew at the time that what I was doing wasn't right, yet I did it. That made me immoral.

What could I do to fix this? There was no way at all of contacting Katniss besides walking to the Seam, and I could throw that idea out the window. I really needed to find some medicine for my leg.

My shower had sucked. I got out and dressed myself lazily in unattractive sweatpants again as I went downstairs to have something for dinner since I hadn't eaten all day. I fumbled around in the cabinets and drawers to find the salve for my leg, but I didn't know where I put it last. It wasn't upstairs, and it wasn't in the kitchen. I'd have to look more later.

My dinner was a frozen packet of teeny-tiny portions of vegetables and meat. It was pretty nasty, but I ate it because I didn't feel like cooking. I spent the rest of the evening lying on the couch and watching the television. It was a small form of mindless entertainment, and I didn't mind it.

After an hour or so of one show, I turned the channel and found something really sick. The Capitol had apparently released a show about the Hunger Games for people to watch in between the actual Hunger Games. It had actors and actresses portraying the tributes and engaging in all kinds of life-threatening things like in the real Hunger Games. So basically, if citizens of the Capitol really liked certain tributes but they died, they had this show to watch to make believe that person was still alive. I looked at the actress playing Rue and knew that I had to keep this from Katniss. It was horrible what they were doing. "Rue" was swinging from branch to branch like a monkey in the current scene I was watching, and the actress playing Katniss was down below laughing at her. Wow. They had found someone with very similar features as Katniss. She could pass for her from a couple yards away, except Katniss was much prettier once you get close up.

Then came somebody I think was supposed to be me into the scene, but this guy was very handsome. I laughed out loud because I did _not_ look like that. We both had blond hair, though. There wasn't much talent in the acting. I think this show was more about having the tributes portrayed for the Capitol citizens, really. For their amusement.

Suddenly the Television Peeta grabbed Katniss' hands as he fell to one knee. What was this? He pulled out a box that had a diamond ring in it, and Katniss fainted into Rue's arms, Rue barely keeping her from falling on the ground. Katniss shrieked and cried as Peeta slid the ring on her finger. I turned the television off; I'd had enough. I think that rings and getting on one knee were some Capitol rituals for marriage, but we don't do that here. It wasn't really practical, and thinking about it, it really didn't make any sense. Why did the guy get down on a knee? So the girl could faint? It was all sort of pointless.

I fantasized about a marriage ceremony between me and Katniss. We'd hold hands and cross the threshold to our house—_our_ house, together—and toss the bread that I baked into the fire. Then a night of love would commence. It would be great.

I had to stop these daydreams if they were never going to really happen. I'd been doing it ever since I could remember, or ever since I was five I guess... living in this dream-world. At first I thought about holding her hand or touching her hair or getting to hear her sing, and then nearing adolescence the fantasies became a little _more_ than that, like kissing and stuff... Now they still included stuff like that but also family stuff. Us sharing a future. Sometimes we even had kids in my fantasies, and Katniss and I wake up together to them jumping on our bed. I was starting to think I was being creepy, obsessing over Katniss like this. I just couldn't deal well with not knowing if she was mad at me or not, so my only coping mechanism was fretting over her.

I sighed deeply and tried to get myself more comfortable on the couch so I could relax and clear my mind. Soon I was dozing off to sleep again, and better dreams entered my mind this time around, dreams of me and my brothers swimming and racing in a lake. We were swimming back and forth in competition, and I was beating them. Even though I'd never been able to swim, I beat them again and again. The bell rang for our next lap, but we stopped moving. The bell rang again, and again. My eyes popped open—someone was at the door.

My limbs were stiff, but I got up as quickly as I could and opened the door. I squinted my eyes to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. It was Katniss. I was so surprised I called her name out loud to make sure I wasn't still dreaming. When she greeted me, I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but I remembered that she had run away earlier today and stopped myself. Opening my arms in invitation instead, she leaned into my chest. I breathed in her hair and closed my eyes in the comfort of holding her again.

I didn't think she was going to come back, at least not tonight, and I told her so. The words she spoke afterwards sounded too good to be true…that she'd always find her way back to me. Things like that always confirmed the feeling that deep down inside, she felt it too. This heat and chemistry that I felt…I wasn't alone in it. She was right there with me.

We let ourselves fall out of the hug but continued to hold each other softly.

"Sorry it's so late. I can tell I woke you…" she started to apologize, but I didn't want to hear it, so I put my hand up to stop her. "No, no. I'm glad you're here." I smiled at her and she walked inside and sat on the couch next to me. "See you've got yourself a walking stick," I stated. I was trying to not make things awkward by talking about easy things.

"Yeah. I must've done something brutal to my ankle, it's killing me," she said, laughing softly.

"Any idea what happened to it?"

"None. I probably ran over a tree root or fell in a hole or something in the woods."

"Katniss Everdeen? Tripping in the forest? Unheard of," I joked.

She chuckled lightly and looked at her hands that were shifting nervously in her lap. "I don't really know what to say," she admitted.

"You don't have to say anything," I spoke softly. "I should apologize." Before I went into another apology speech, however, she stopped me.

"Really, you don't have to keep saying sorry. It's okay. You're not the one who got drunk, remember?"

"Yeah, but…you're…" I was going to say "you're not the one who touched me," but that would be a lie, wouldn't it? She touched me quite a bit, too. I continued, "You're allowed to get drunk if you want," I stupidly finished. She laughed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I just…need to know that you forgive me, Katniss," I said as I looked at my own hands that I'd placed in my lap, too.

"Of course I forgive you!" she said as if it were obvious. "Though there's nothing to really forgive," she cryptically added. Maybe I just worried too much… Maybe she was okay with it. I didn't know.

"You do? Oh, that's great. That's excellent. Because I really am sorry, you know," I started to apologize again.

"Stop. _I'm_ sorry. I must have been hard to deal with last night," she said.

I shrugged. "Eh, no more than usual," I smirked as she pushed my shoulder, giggling. We both sat on the couch speechless for a few long moments. "I'm not just sorry for getting drunk. I feel bad about leaving today, too. Can you forgive _me_?" she asked.

I gently smiled at her and told her that yes, of course I could forgive her. She was free to take whatever time she needed to be by herself if that's what she wanted, and I let her know I felt that way. "It was just hard not knowing if you would push me away, if I had done something unforgiveable to ruin this," I admitted.

She nodded, seeming to understand. "I'm just really confused, Peeta," she said quietly.

"Talk to me," I said. She moved to face me on the couch and rested her back against the arm. She looked ready to have a conversation about her feelings, and I couldn't wait to hear what had been going on in her head.

"Well, first of all, everything's different. Nothing is the same at all, and I really don't know how to deal with it."

"What things?"

"Things I took for granted just a month ago. Walking down the street without stares, and just life how it used to be."

"Oh, well, you got stares walking down the street before the Games, Katniss," I reminded her.

"Did not," she said. I just raised my eyebrows at her because I knew I was right. She didn't pay attention to that kind of stuff, but I did. I remember five guys specifically who would always watch Katniss. Not including me. "Anyway, now it's like…Okay, you and I are some of the only victors from Twelve ever, and our district is getting parcels each month because of us, and we..._I_…have money now and this huge house, but at what cost? We have to do the Victory Tour now, and I'm lucky that the Capitol hasn't sent people here to kill my family yet. And it's so messed up that I have to think about things like that, like death and murder. All the time. In my dreams and when I'm awake. I know what they're capable of, and I'm scared to death."

I looked at her concerned face. She was worried about very logical things. These things were true, and they were the same things I worried about. I deeply sighed because I couldn't do much to take away these horrors that plagued her. If I could, I would, but they were out of my control.

"We'll get through everything together, Katniss. I'll be here for you, and maybe someday it'll all be different," I hoped out loud.

She gulped. "I don't know, Peeta. I really wish that it could be true, but there's really no possible way to change anything," she said as a tear fell from her eye. I noticed our distance on the couch and scooted closer to her to wrap my arm around her. I just held her, because that's all I could do.

"Sorry," she sniffed, "I didn't come here to cry to you, I promise," she tried to laugh it off. She always does that, like her crying bothers me.

"You're okay," I told her. "I like that you're telling me how you feel," I admitted to her.

"I'm bad with words, you know..." She turned her head and smiled at me, our faces now just inches apart. She looked down at my lips and then turned her head away again.

"There's another thing I'm confused about, Peeta," she said, drying her eyes but still looking troubled. "This thing between us," she said.

I looked at her with uncertainty. Where was she going with this?

She gulped and continued, "I've never felt this way before, and I don't know how to process it. So, that's why I ran away today. And I'm sorry," she said, looking at me again.

I still didn't know what she was getting at. "I guess I'd be lying if I said I completely understand…Is what you're saying a good thing?" I asked her.

"Yes, yes it's a good thing. But it's…a lot for me, I guess. It's kind of scary, feeling like this about someone," she said with a small shrug.

"Sorry for being dense…but how exactly is it you feel?"

She shrugged again and seemed at a loss for words. "Like I'm not in control," is what she settled with. I made an elusive noise. I could relate.

I could tell it took a lot for her to even admit this much, and I was happy for that. Smiling at her, I made eye contact and said, "You don't ever have to be sorry for anything, Katniss. But please, _please_, just know that I'm here if you're ever feeling confused…Chances are I probably feel the same way…" I said evasively. She nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable.

I stared at my hands that I'd put back in my lap.

"So…" she said after another long pause.

"So," I repeated awkwardly. I was being so awkward. I didn't know how to act or what to say at the moment.

"Do you want to go upstairs so we can go to bed?" she asked. After all the sleeping I had already done today, I didn't know how easily I could go back to sleep, but I agreed. We both walked weirdly up the stairs to my bed and, after I opened the window, we situated ourselves under the covers.

"So I slept all day when I went home," she told me as we were shifting around in the bed and propping her ankle up on a pillow. "I don't ever want to drink again."

I smiled. "That's what they all say," I said, laughing. "I slept all day too, actually. My leg has been absolutely awful, so sleeping's helped me forget the pain," I said as I grimaced. Getting comfortable in bed was impossible.

"Oh no, is it really sore?" she said, grimacing with me out of sympathy because I guess she saw my face.

"Hurts like shit," I said.

"What's it look like now? Has it healed at all?"

"I mean, it looks a little better, I guess," I said, fluffing up a pillow under my head. "It's…" I was going to describe what it looked like, but she'd be grossed out too much by the nasty descriptions. "It's never going to look the same," is what I settled with.

"But it still hurts…" she pondered. "Maybe my mom can help you. I'm going to see her tomorrow about my ankle, actually. You should come with me."

I smiled at her. "Sure, sounds good." There's some hope, I guess.

"Oh! I forgot! On the way here I stopped by the Hob, and Greasy Sae gave me some painkillers," Katniss said as she reached over the side of the bed and searched through her knapsack.

"What were you doing at the Hob at midnight on a Saturday?" I asked her. My face scrunched up in worry. That place turned into a brothel by night, and Katniss shouldn't be around any of that. Any of the men out there could snatch her up.

"I was walking through town to come here, and I saw the lights were on," she answered. "Why?"

"It's just…" I began, but then thought better of it, "It's nothing."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't say that. You look like I just told you I'm joining the circus or something."

"Katniss, you know there are prostitutes around town, don't you?" I asked her. Her face got red immediately and she responded, "Yeah…I guess." This kind of stuff embarrassed her, but I knew all about it because I lived so close to the black market where all of that stuff went on. Sleeping with my window open all the time, I always heard everything. Way more than I wanted to.

"Well, there are, and where there are prostitutes, there are bad guys. So I'm just saying, it's not a good idea to hang around there after dark. Especially on a weekend," I said. Hopefully I phrased that in a way that sounded like I cared for her well-being and not like I wanted to order her around.

"Oh, I didn't even think about it," she said. "That's crazy…"

"Yeah…Even though I know you can handle yourself, it's just wise to stay away," I advised.

"It's not like I make a habit of it or anything," she countered. I smiled…Katniss Everdeen…Miss I-Always-Have-To-Have-The-Last-Word.

I didn't want to be the one to open her eyes to all the unspoken secrets of market life, but I guess it would only be a matter of time for her to find out on her own. This kind of thing was common if you were from Merchant's Square. Most of the merchants were the ones down in the bad parts of town, and a few Peacekeepers, too. A lot of the prostitutes were from the Seam, but I knew it was just because a lot of them had no other ways to make money. Unfortunately, a lot of other people just thought Seam women were just slutty, hence the old "Seam Slut" insults to Katniss at school. It was angering because there were other women who weren't from the Seam that engaged in that lifestyle, too. _And_ because Katniss obviously wasn't a slut.

Katniss snapped out of her daze at this newfound knowledge of the Hob's nightlife and continued digging in her knapsack until she pulled out a small pouch. She poured a few painkillers in her hand. "What are these things?" I asked. I'd never seen them.

"She said they were poppy seeds," she said. I didn't see any seeds. They were tiny little ball-shaped flower pods.

"Are you sure we should take this?" I asked her tentatively.

"Sae is reliable. She wouldn't give me something bad," she told me. I still wasn't sure. "Maybe we can cut this one in half and each swallow half, and take more if we have to," she suggested. That's what we decided to do, and that's when I saw all the seeds inside. We stuck the thing in our mouths and had to swallow quickly because of the taste. It was nasty, but I was willing to take it to help my leg.

That moment between anticipating something in your body to change and then actually feeling the first signal of the painkiller was neat. At first I had written these seed things off as fake, but then a happy feeling crept up from out of nowhere and I knew it was real medicine.

"Do you feel it, too?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said, smiling slightly. We lay in comfortable bliss for a while longer until I felt very strong euphoric sensations from my head to my toes. It was pretty strong, and it was spreading. My leg stopped hurting, but I felt weird.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her at that point.

"Really good…but weird," she answered. That's the same as what I felt. I didn't really feel like talking, so we just laid there. Katniss snuggled next to me, and it was comforting, but soon I became hot. I think she did, too, because she kicked the sheets off of her body.

"Uggh," she said, scratching her legs. "I'm all itchy." Me too, come to think of it. I scratched my back.

"We look like two addicts or something," I told her, laughing. "Guess we're high!"

"At least the pain's gone, right?" She asked and pulled the sheets back over her body. "Let's just try to go to sleep."

"Sounds like a plan," I said. I looked over at her and was surprised to find her looking at me, too. I smiled and she smiled back, a genuine smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. I leaned forward and pecked her on the lips. "Night, baby," I said against her mouth. "Night, Peeta," she responded. I wrapped my arm around her, and she used my chest as a pillow. She placed her hand on my stomach and I caressed her fingers until my breathing evened out, my body completely comfortable wrapped in Katniss' warmth. As I lay there willing sleep to come, she whispered, "Peeta?"

"Mm?" I said, my eyes still closed.

"Did you like it at all, what we did last night?" she asked me.

"What's that?"

"The touching…and stuff…that you said we did," she whispered. I held her hand that was still on my stomach and told her that I did like it. I'd have been crazy not to like it. "Do you ever want to do it again? With me?" As if I'd ever want to do it with somebody else. I opened my eyes. Was she asking what I thought she was? "I—Whatever you want to do," I uneasily responded. I could feel her eyelashes blinking rapidly against my side where her head lay.

"I want to know what _you_ want, not what you think _I_ want," she whispered. I leaned my head back a little so I could try to get a better look at her face. That was the kind of thing I normally would say to her, not her to me. I lifted my right hand that was stroking her hand on my stomach and tucked her hair behind her ear. I looked in her eyes, dark in the room yet so full of brightness. I whispered, "I want to do what we did last night again, definitely. But I want it to be special, and I want you to want it, too."

"I want that, too," she softly spoke, turning her eyes away from mine. I moved away again so I could roll on my side and force her to look at me. This kind of stuff was serious, and I think it was just too intense for her to deal with sometimes.

"Really?" I said in mild disbelief. She nodded shyly. "Katniss," I continued, trying to put my feelings into words but being too sleepy and fuzzy-brained to really care, "I don't know if you realize what you are to me. You're it. I mean, you're everything. Do you realize that?" Her eyes matched mine again.

"What about Delly?" she asked, and I looked at her in puzzlement.

"Delly?" I laughed incredulously. "Delly's just a friend," I explained. She should know this. I guess she had the same feelings about her that I had about Gale. "I'm not lying when I tell you you're everything," I repeated. This medicine was making me feel a little over-confident and a little chatty now. "If you want to do…that kind of stuff again, I need to know it will be just with me. That it'll be special and just between us." She looked a bit offended as she said, "Of course it would be just with you. Who else would I think to do that with?" she asked.

At her tone, I disengaged my arm from her side and rubbed my eyes with my fingers. "I don't know, Katniss. Sometimes I just don't feel like you feel the same way about me that I feel about you," I told her. There, I had ruined a perfectly good moment by being honest.

"But I do, Peeta, I do," she told me. "I've told you a million times there has never been anyone else." I looked in her eyes, trying to find sincerity. I had been fooled once before. She answered my unspoken question: "He was only ever a friend, too, Peeta. Honestly. I…I would never even think about doing something like...what we did together with him." She continued, "Look, Peeta, we've played enough games to last us a lifetime, don't you think? I'm being real."

I looked at her again, close enough that our noses touched. I really liked what she was telling me, and I believed her completely. It was incredible that she felt this way about me, too, but she did. It was great. "Do you want to be with me, and only me?" I asked her for clarification.

"Yes," she answered, smiling, "I do."

I smiled and kissed her and ran my hands through her hair. I finally had gained some clarity… she wanted _more_. She already wanted to do what we did last night. That was…just simply amazing…Wow. "Is this even real?" I chuckled. She kissed me with soft lips and said into my mouth, "It's real."

I just couldn't wait until tomorrow where we could spend the entire day together. I thought about taking her out someplace, but then I remembered we both could barely walk and that we technically already had plans to go to her mom's. Oh well, I'd find something special to do tomorrow. We were finally together. A couple.

We slackly held onto each other as we both slept throughout the entire night free of nightmares.

**Katniss' POV**

The next day Peeta and I decided to take a much, _much_ smaller dose of whatever Sae had given me so we could walk to the Seam and get my mom to help us out. I recollected what she had told me last night, that I should take "a few of them" if I was in pain. I only took half of one last night and I felt like almost throwing up! That was kind of suspicious, but at least these things worked. Maybe Peeta and I just weren't used to taking them because we hadn't ever done it before, so the effects came extra strong to us or something.

Last night was nice. The medicine hit me very strong and made me feel a little mushy, which was a good thing because Peeta and I got a little bit off of our chest. This whole feelings business was messy, but the road ahead looked easier. Peeta and I had decided to…move forward…. in our relationship, and I was honestly more happy inside than I remember being in a long time.

Approaching Merchant's Square, Peeta became visibly anxious. "What is it?" I asked him out of concern because I kept seeing him looking around.

"Nothing. Just don't wanna go by the bakery," he told me. Fair enough. We went a little out of our way so as not to pass Mellark's.

"Is everything alright?" I wondered out loud.

"Nothing's ever been alright," he said, laughing softly. "My mom's insane, my brothers are idiots, and my dad's just…just kind of living there I guess." I remembered that his family had never really been close, and I knew firsthand just how "insane" his mom was. She was sadistic. I knew Peeta had to put up with a lot of hardships living with her.

We stopped by the Hob to return the cane to Sae because Peeta had something at his house he let me use instead. I looked kind of stupid using a crutch, but I got over the stares after a while.

I felt tarnished approaching the warehouse now, knowing what went on there at night. I wondered how many people I knew came there after dark, what unspoken things were done in the dark corners. Sae seemed to examine me more than she usually did while I thanked her again and left.

When we got to my old house, we walked inside and ironically saw Mom already at the kitchen table mending somebody's finger. That somebody lifted his head at the sound of the door, and I noticed it was Gale. Mom was giving him stitches on his finger. I was surprised to see him inside my house and a little confused at the late hour for him. Night shifts generally ran from ten at night to seven in the morning, and it was already about eleven. So unless he just waited a very long time to come see my mom, he probably didn't hurt his finger at work.

His stoic presence suddenly took over the entire room. Even Peeta looked small compared to Gale. Gale sat in a chair, his long legs spread wide on either side. No matter what he was doing, Gale's broad frame made him seem in control. A natural leader by looks and demeanor.

He still had on his dirty work clothes: a blue collared shirt, overalls, and a red bandana around his neck. I noticed his hard hat sitting on the table as Mom sewed his skin back together. There seemed to be about seven stitches already there on the side of his left index finger, and there was still plenty more coming to him as Mom's hands nimbly worked on the flesh. Gale had a look on his face like he was bored and did this kind of thing all the time. He didn't look in pain at all, and he was in the middle of a giant yawn when his eyes met mine. His face did get a tiny pained look as he assessed the fact that I was with Peeta and frowned.

Mom, as usual, didn't notice the door had opened as she concentrated on Gale's finger. The procedure didn't take long to finish, and Gale stood up and walked into my room. I figured that Prim was in there, but I stared after him in discomfort. Having these two guys in the same room was awkward; they both were jealous of one another for no good reason.

Gale re-emerged with Prim moments later. "Hi, Peeta, hi, Katniss!" she greeted us, beaming.

"Hey, little duck," I said. She scrunched up her nose. I'll call her that if I want to, I don't care if she doesn't like me saying it when other people are around.

"Why do you have a crutch?" she asked me. I explained about my ankle and called Mom to come over and look at it. After propping it up on the seat of a chair, she told me there was nothing really she could do but advised me to put ice on it and to stop walking on it so much. I could've told myself that, but I guess it was good advice because I had been doing neither of those things.

"Peeta's also got an injury we want you to check out," I explained. Peeta's ailment, however, took longer to clarify. Mom knew what had happened from watching the Games, but she didn't know where he was in the healing process. Honestly, I didn't either because I hadn't seen it since he was bleeding profusely from it.

Gale and Prim moved to the couch to talk while I stayed with Peeta by the kitchen table. Why wouldn't he just leave?

Peeta had to take off his pants and lay on the kitchen table in just his boxers so Mom could examine him. My first instinct was to look away, but I sighed at my stupidity and looked back toward the table again. Mom lit candles and opened all the curtains to have better light to see Peeta's injury. She rolled the fabric of his boxer shorts up a little so she could look at his wound. She gasped, and that's when I knew it was bad, because she was normally very composed when in Healer Mode.

I looked at his upper thigh. Where Cato had cut him, the skin was torn and split. It was in different stages of healing, it looked like, because there were lots of different colors there. Most of it was pink, but the inner part was whitish, and some of it was dark, too, like a scab. It looked excruciating. I had been told that by me applying pressure to it, I helped him from bleeding to death, but I suddenly felt very guilty all over again that I didn't pay enough attention to Mom to fully know what I was doing in the arena. I remember being so overwhelmed and afraid for him though. I remember seeing his bone. I did all I knew how to do…I didn't know how else to help…

"Primrose! Where's Prim?" Mom hollered. Having been just on the other side of the room, she trotted over quickly and smiled brightly. Her face fell when she took in the scene. "Go get my other kit," Mom told Prim. She obediently ran off into Mom's room, leaving Gale alone. He stood staring at Peeta.

"What is it?" I asked my mother.

"Well," she said, "this is severely infected. All the skin around it is inflamed...And there is a lot of dead tissue here," she muttered. "Too much."

"But you can fix it, right?" I asked.

"Katniss, I don't know. There's not much I can do in this case, either. It really should have been amputated," she said. Peeta's face was pained.

"But it's just an infection! You've treated hundreds of infections," I cried to her in vain.

"Yes, but Katniss, not all of them are treatable. Some just don't respond to treatment. Then they spread," she instructed. "Peeta, I can remove the dead tissue and give you some ointment, but speaking to you as a healer, and as a mother myself, I would advise amputation."

Peeta's face looked disturbed, but he put on a brave face. He leaned up a bit, staring at his leg with a sorrowful expression. How the hell would he have it amputated anyway? We didn't even have doctors in this district. My mom was as best as we were going to get. Did she regularly amputate people without me knowing? Did she use an ax or something? The enormity of this situation was bringing me anxiety again—that swelling balloon in my chest I had come to know so well. I wanted to envelop Peeta and take all of this hurt away. For the thousandth time in the past few days, it seems, my eyes began to sting and glisten.

Prim came jostling into the kitchen with a big box of supplies, and Mom got to work.

"While you're here, I'll do what I can, okay? Lay back down," she said. He listened to her instruction and entwined his hands on his stomach.

I knew that I wouldn't be able to watch what Mom was about to do, but I tried to for as long as I could. She poured two different types of solution all over the wound and then Prim handed her the forceps. I walked to the other side of the table and held Peeta's hand. I looked in his eyes while Mom did what she had to do. It must've been relatively painless because Peeta didn't wince or make any noise at all. His face still looked pained, and I tried to be as soothing as I could. Being faced with near-certain amputation would make me feel distressed, as well.

Prim was there at the table, also. She was kind of like Mom's understudy, watching intently for miniscule details that she might need to know in the future.

Gale finally moved from where he was stationed by the couch, walking up to the table and meeting my eyes. He moved his head toward the door, beckoning that I join him outside. I figured that Mom was almost done with Peeta, anyway, so I agreed.

"While Mom cleans you up, I'll be right outside waiting, okay?" I told Peeta. He didn't look at me but showed me he heard by slowly nodding. I let go of his hand and met Gale outside the front door.

"What'd you do to your finger?" I asked him.

"Cut it," he said. I rolled my eyes and replied, "Yeah, I can see that. First week on the job and already getting stitches, I see." He didn't answer. I was starting to feel a little uneasy with Peeta inside and me outside alone with Gale. I thought about going back in there, but I figured Peeta would be done in just a minute or so more and we could be on our way. Plus I thought Gale might have something important to say.

"Look, I want to say sorry about last night. I shouldn't have left things like that," Gale broke the silence.

"It's fine." Actually, I was glad he put his pride aside enough to say sorry. It was something he hardly ever did.

"No, it's not. I don't want to fight with you every time we talk, Kat," he said softly. He intently looked at me with stormy eyes. They were bright against his dark face.

I shrugged my shoulders and looked away. "Wouldn't be out of the ordinary."

"Yes, it would. We never used to argue so much. Now we're at each other's throats whenever we meet up," he said. I guess he was right, to an extent. I honestly had held back my temper quite a bit at every encounter we've had, but I can't deny that the meetings have been less than pleasant.

"Well, then let's fix it," I suggested. I was hoping maybe he'd see reason and realize I wanted things like they were before. Frolicking in the forest, hunting together, laughing. The easy life.

He smiled. His white teeth contrasted against his coal-plastered face. "Okay," he responded. Gale was being agreeable—this was great. We could still be friends after all.

Right after the thought of renewed friendship entered my head, I thought back to the woods. His eyes bore deep into mine again, and I realized he wanted _more_ still. The way he was staring at me was starting to make me uncomfortable. I unconsciously moved a little further away from him. He noticed.

"I don't want to lose you to him, Catnip," he whispered, finally voicing the cause for the unspoken tension that had been between us since I got back.

"What?" I moved away a bit more, but he got a tiny bit closer and said even lower, "We were together first, you know, you and I," he said suggestively. Did Mom give him some medicine to make him loopy? I'd never seen him look at me so…forcefully. And talk to me so…intimately.

"Gale, you're my best friend," I tentatively started. "You have been for the past five years. And that's still what I want." Was that clear enough? That conveyed that I didn't want anything more, right?

"No, it's not," he replied. "We haven't just been friends, Katniss. Not for a long time…It's always been more. You just don't want to admit it because you're scared." What? I thought I had been perfectly plain, yet he still believed what he wanted to.

"Don't tell me how I feel," I rebutted. Here we go again—we were going to fight. It just came second nature to us, but I tried to rein in my temper. "I…" I wanted to tell Gale that I was with Peeta now, but I really wasn't. Was I? Nothing was official; nothing made sense. Instead I said, "You and I are friends. _Peeta_ and I are… more than friends, okay?"

"You're just using him as a distraction because you don't want to admit you feel something for me too," he responded. "And because you feel sorry for him." It's like nothing I said to him ever entered his head. As always, he was telling me how I felt and not listening to what I was saying. I contemplated a response to his statement, open-mouthed and ready for denial, but just then the front door opened. I jerked my head at the sound like I was in the middle of doing something I should feel guilty about. It was Peeta. My rescuer! Thank God. Now we could get out of here and go back home, both of our injuries tended to

Peeta didn't speak or even look at me as he started to walk away, however, leaving me standing by the house with Gale. "Hey! Wait up!" I yelled after him but he didn't acknowledge my voice. I yelled louder, "Peeta! Hold on a second!" What was his deal?

At that, he turned to me and said, "I'll just be on my way. Don't feel the need to follow me."

I caught up with him a few moments later and grabbed his arm. "Peeta, what's wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing." I was genuinely confused. He was being sarcastic, and I wasn't used to being treated this way by the kind Peeta I had grown so close to.

"Bullshit!" I spat at him. "Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?"

He sighed dismally. "Katniss, please let me go. I just want to be alone," he said.

"Fine. Go be alone," I said. I watched him walk away from me feeling utterly dejected. Things had been fine just a few minutes ago. This had to be about Gale, then. Unless he was upset about something else, which was unlikely. Peeta knew Gale and I were friends and _had_ been friends before he and I even began talking. I walked back to the house where Gale was leaning against the siding still.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, smirking. God, he was so cocky.

"No…I don't know what that was about," I said. I was suddenly in a bad mood.

"He's threatened by me," Gale stated simply.

"Huh?" Peeta should know by now that he doesn't have to keep feeling second-best to Gale just because he's known me longer.

"He's weak, and he's threatened by me," Gale repeated.

"He is _not_ weak! He's one of the strongest people I know," I stood up for him. "I'm tired of people always saying stuff like that about him. Look, you don't know him like I know him," I moodily said.

"And how 'well' do you know him exactly?" Gale asked, raising his eyebrows.

I was done. I was through with this crap.

"Piss off, Gale." I started to walk away. I had no clue where I could go, but I wanted to leave. Gale grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. He grabbed my face and lowered his dirt-stained face to mine to steal a kiss. His lips were wet, and his tongue felt long as it probed into my mouth, seemingly trying to reach the back of my throat. I couldn't breathe. The kiss had taken me by complete surprise. Gale had one hand holding my back, pressing me against him, and the other hand around my neck. I lifted my hands to push him away, and with some effort, I succeeded.

"What the hell, Gale?!" I shouted, punching his chest. "Why won't you listen to me? I don't want this! I never asked for this!"

His chest heaved with the strain of the kiss, the kiss that just left me thinking of Peeta. Peeta's gentleness still sparked a fire within me; his kisses didn't have to be so demanding like Gale's to convey his feelings. I wanted to run after him but he was clear when he said he wanted to be alone.

"Katniss…" Gale ran his hand through his messy air and pulled at it a bit. "This is driving me crazy," he said. Looking back at my face, he said, "I know you feel bad that he's jealous of me. But I want you." He tried to hold my hands but I let them go. "I want to be with you. Really be with you."

I closed my eyes and forced myself to take deep breaths. "I can't do this," I told him and left him standing there, staring after me walking away, just as I had so shortly ago stared after Peeta.


	7. Chapter 7

**Katniss' POV**

I didn't really use my crutch as I went to the village. I had it in my hand, but I wanted to fuck up my ankle more. I wanted to feel the pain. Putting one foot in front of the other, I reached Peeta's door and found it locked. "Peeta!" I yelled, but no one answered my calls. I banged on the door a few times in vain before just going to my own house next to his.

Hanging on the doorknob was a small bag. I opened it and saw quite a few painkillers full of seeds that Peeta had left for me. I left them hanging. Let my ankle hurt. Let it fucking fracture.

I went inside my seldom-used house and slammed the door shut behind me. Every single cell I had was infused in anger. My heart was beating violently in my chest, and I wanted to punch something. What the fuck had I done? Where exactly was my crime? I went over in my mind everything I knew.

One: Gale wanted to be more than friends, and I didn't. AND I had told him that. Repeatedly.  
Two: I remembered _specifically_ telling this to Peeta, too, so he can't say I haven't been honest with him, and he should know my true feelings, because….  
Three: I admitted all of my feelings to Peeta last night. All of them. He shouldn't have any reason to doubt what I said. I literally told him that I wanted to only be with him.  
Four: Both Gale and Peeta didn't like the fact that I had a relationship with the other. But what could I really do to fix that?

Was that it? I thought hard, and I safely told myself that was everything. So Peeta got mad that I was with Gale…he had probably heard our conversation since he was right on the other side of the thin walls. …But so what? Even if that were true, then he had heard me tell Gale that I just wanted to be friends with him! Why would that upset him? Now he was mad at me and locked me out of his house.

Wait a minute…I suddenly felt a rush of empathy. I had done that to Peeta countless times…just left him to fend for himself because of my sudden need for solitude. I had done that just yesterday! Now that it was happening to me, I didn't know how to deal with these feelings. I hated myself. I was a horrible, nasty person who didn't deserve the love of anybody because I have always, and always will, think only about myself. I deserved to be deserted by Peeta, I deserved this hollow feeling in my chest, and most of all, I deserved the tears that threatened to leak out of my lifeless eyes.

And Gale was infuriating as always, powerfully forcing me into a kiss that I felt nothing during. That I hadn't even given him one iota of a signal that I wanted in the first damn place. What could I do about this? My signs, I thought, were pretty clear. Especially when I voiced again and again that I just wanted to be friends. What could I possibly do differently? How could I make Gale see I _didn't_ want him? And how could I make Peeta see that I was being honest when I said that?

My chest heavily rose and fell with each breath as a threatening panic attack taunted my lungs. I stood in the middle of the empty, cold room and wildly looked around. It was decorated very slightly but not by me. There were some pieces of furniture and tacky works of art. I saw a vase in the corner and lifted it up with two hands. I threw it against the wall where it broke and fell into a dozen pieces. I did the same with two more vases I saw. I needed to destroy. I looked at Peeta's crutch I had left by the door. Using it like a baseball bat, I swung it at anything and everything. I didn't care what I hit. In my blind rage I created six holes in the walls of the living room and tore off and broke quite a few other decorative items, including picture frames, shelves, and sconces. I knocked over anything that was standing until the room was fully ruined. Overturned plants had spilled soil all over the Berber carpeting, and I rubbed the dirt in with my good foot.

I guess Peeta didn't want me anymore. He had figured out that I was no good for him. I had taken him for granted, I now realized. I was now truly alone. I collapsed on the floor and hugged my knees to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. At noon on a Sunday, I lost my mind.

**Peeta's POV**

Mrs. Everdeen was very good at healing. The antiseptic she had poured on my leg made me numb to anything she did afterwards. I almost wished I could feel a little pain, though, because then I could focus on it and not on the word 'amputation.' As ugly as my leg looked now, who would ever want me with it completely gone? Katniss would never even look twice at me if I was a cripple, not that I stood any chance as it was. She had just gone outside to talk with Gale privately because the sight grossed her out so much.

After Mrs. Everdeen was finished, she covered the wound up with dressing and handed me my pants. "You should come back in a week or so…let me see it again," she told me. She handed me a big white tube of ointment and told me, "This is for you to keep." I put on my jeans and thanked Mrs. Everdeen profusely for her help.

Putting the healing ointment in my pocket, I prayed that it would work and that my leg wouldn't have to be chopped off. I was poised to open the doorknob to leave with Katniss, but her loud conversation with Gale stopped me. They were intently talking like a close couple. I looked around to make sure I was alone in my eavesdropping, and the coast was clear. Prim and her mom had left to sterilize all their equipment in the bathroom.

Gale was talking to Katniss about something he said last night. I was confused—Katniss was with me last night. I listened further. Apparently she had visited him and they had gotten into an argument? I suddenly felt my heart swell in sharp jealousy. She hadn't told me about her visit with Gale at all. She told me about going to the Hob…but somehow must have forgotten to tell me about Gale…

What else hadn't she told me? I felt stupid for thinking that she would confide in me about this, though. As much as I told her that I wanted to hear about these things, she never changed her behavior in keeping it to herself. I really thought that last night we were having a break-through. She'd opened up in a way that she'd never done before, and now I couldn't tell if any of it was even real or not.

I bet Gale and Katniss had had some lover's quarrel. Visions of them making up flooded my mind. They were embracing and laughing together with me finally out of the picture. All of my self-doubt was correct.

My ear close to the front door, I heard them now talking about me. They lowered their voices, now trying to be quiet, but I could hear every word. Gale told Katniss he wanted to be with her, that she basically belonged to him first. I clenched my fists. He was right, but hearing it out loud was angering to me. It was further justification for my never-ending beliefs that she would ultimately end up with him. I was nothing to anybody…not Katniss, not my family…Who, then? Nobody.

Katniss said something about wanting to just be his friend, but Gale didn't buy it either. Why else would she want to go on a moonlight stroll with him last night? And keep it from me? Gale told her quietly that he knew they weren't just friends, that her actions told him a different story. I knew it. She tried to deny it, but Gale was right. Katniss wanted to be with him, too. I was sure of it.

My heartbeat was rapidly accelerating. Hearing in on this conversation felt very wrong, but I was addicted to listening more. Everything was giving me proof that I didn't just have low self-esteem; I was very realistic when I said that I could never compare to Gale.

Then Gale spoke the words that crushed my world.

He said what I knew to be true all along: that she was just using me as a distraction to figure out her feelings for Gale. A giant, invisible hand punched me in the stomach. But I had known that all along, hadn't I? She felt sorry for me. Every day she had seen me in school covered in bruises and scrapes all those years ago, she just felt bad for me because I couldn't fight back and stand my ground like a real man could. And now she felt bad that I was injured, because, again, I wasn't man enough. She also felt sorry for me because I liked her and she didn't like me back. But she didn't want to hurt my feelings because I had helped keep her alive in the arena.

I'd heard enough. I opened the door and walked by the pair of them, focusing only on my destination of Victor's Village. She tried to get me to wait for her, but I wasn't going to go out of my way anymore for her when she didn't even need me.

"Peeta!" she yelled. I wished she'd stop saying my name. I wasn't the one she wanted. "Hold on a second!"

I was tired of her charity, her insincere kisses and lies. She shouldn't have to feel sorry for me anymore. The Games were over. She didn't owe me anything anymore. My voice was cold when I said, "I'll just be on my way. Don't feel the need to follow me."

My body surged with electricity when she touched my arm to stop me from progressing anymore, but I tried to ignore it in my envious rage. "Peeta, what's wrong with you?" she asked. So much. So, so much, Katniss.

"Oh, nothing," I told her. I was being a jerk and I was very aware of it, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Bullshit! Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?"

I had made her mad. She was cussing at me. I deserved it, though. I didn't want to fight with her, but I really wished she would just stop feeling the need to be with me and just go back to Gale. I forcefully made my voice calmer as I told her with conviction, "Katniss, please let me go. I just want to be alone."

I felt even worse as I left her, but now she could be happy at least with me out of the way.

When I got home, I walked upstairs to get some painkillers to leave for Katniss on her doorknob. (I took some out for myself too.) I thought I knew her well enough to safely predict that she'd probably go to her house here in the village tonight, but I didn't know anything anymore. Maybe she'd want to stay with her mom and Prim. Maybe now that I was gone she'd even want to stay with Gale.

Walking back into the house, I immediately went into the drawing room. I scoffed at my sketch of Katniss that instantly welcomed me and placed it against the wall so I didn't have to look at it. I began a new portrait of myself. I was pathetic, but I painted myself outside of the bakery in the pouring rain, sitting on the sidewalk and getting wet. It was how I felt. The world spun and people were outside living their lives, but I was happy to just be alone in this room.

I began another painting while the other dried. Colors hit the canvas before I even processed what I was creating. It turned out to be the woods, a deer, and a huntress with her bow mounted. I flipped my easel over and left the room.

She'd never leave my mind. Ever. She'd end up married to Gale one day, and I'd still be in this room painting pictures of her and dreaming of her every night. I was pitiful and obsessed. I thought about my dad. This was probably how he felt when Katniss' mom left him for somebody else. I was destined to repeat history, I supposed.

The sky was dark outside, so I assumed it was late by now. It sucked beyond words that this was my first real weekend off since getting back and it had been an emotion train-wreck for both of us. For the second night in a row, I took a depressing shower and ate a bad TV dinner.

I was bored and fidgety and needed human contact. The television was even more disturbing: on the fake Hunger Game channel, Katniss and I were all dressed up for a large marriage ceremony. I couldn't take it anymore. I turned off the television and decided to visit Haymitch.

He looked the same as he had yesterday morning when he let me inside his house, down to his robe, dirty hair, and liquor in hand. He looked at my face and laughed. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. I guess I wore my heart on my sleeve too much. My face probably looked as anguished as I felt.

Though dirty in appearance, he seemed to be doing well. He wasn't so drunk that he was stumbling and slurring like usual, so I started to tell him what happened earlier.

"I need help. Or advice," I said. I confided everything to him because I trusted him not to repeat it to anybody. I had grown to respect Haymitch, as strange as that sounded. He didn't say anything as I told him my problems, and he didn't say anything after I was done.

I needed some answers. "Be honest. How much was Katniss faking in the arena?"

I could tell he didn't want to tell me what he was about to divulge. Before he said anything, he wanted to first prepare me for what was to come. "Understand that I was acting as y'all's mentor, okay? I was tryin'a keep the two of you alive, and I was in a hard position. Katniss was hard to help…" he rubbed the scruff on his face as he carefully spoke, "She's never been someone that people would describe as cheery, ya know?"

"She's had a rough life! Her father died when she was eleven and her whole family was starving—" I began to interrupt, but Haymitch held up a hand and nodded. "I know, I know. She's a survivor, and so she's never shown emotion. Sees it as a weakness. She's suspicious about everything—about other people's motives, 'specially. Thinks everyone's out to get her. But you already know all this." I nodded. He took a drink. "She still could win though. She had a chance. I just had to shift things a bit to work the system so one of y'all would come out alive." He paused and looked down into the depths of his drink.

"I can't really answer your question, boy. She'd been s'picious from the start about ya… even though I told her you were genuine. But she couldn't believe that you _didn't_ wanna kill her, that you had feelings for her and wanted to protect her. It was unheard of for her. And plus she's stubborn." He heavily sighed and took a drink again. "S'much as I hate to tell ya, I told her to act real in love with ya for the cameras so y'all could get sponsors and have a better chance at winnin'." At this, I looked down and sighed again.

I had already known this, but his words still hurt. In the arena I had so unquestionably accepted that she felt strongly for me too. And she was probably just thinking about staying alive to get back to her true love, Gale.

"But I'll tell you somethin', boy, I barely got no sleep 'cause I was watchin' the Games so often… And I'm not her, so I can't speak for her or anything…But listen. Look at me." He saw me looking down at my lap. "I noticed every little exchange between y'all. I could practically see the wheels turnin' in her head as she came to realize what a good guy you are. She felt somethin' for you too. Still does. Just doesn't know it," he said. "Might even be love," he finished.

"But what about that guy, Gale?" I said stubbornly, not being able to process or believe his words from earlier.

"What about him?"

"I dunno…Don't you think she seems really friendly with him?"

He laughed. "They have a friendship based on survival an' some common ground, sure," he said. "Would she let him do what she lets _you_ do? Think on that."

I would hope not. Thinking back on just the past few days, we've done quite a bit together, from kissing to touching…I gave her a bath, for God's sake. I would hope that she wouldn't let Gale do those things, too. I would hope that she wouldn't even let him sleep in the same bed as her. The thought made me sad. When I didn't respond at all to him, Haymitch asked, "Y'all two haven't talked about this since ya got back?"

I sighed. I had been doing a lot of that today. Technically, we had talked last night, but did any of it mean anything? I didn't know. I was so damn confused. Why would she see Gale and not tell me? That was what I didn't get. "I mean, kind of. After we left the Capitol, I was…overjoyed, actually, because I thought she was where I was…and when she told me…everything you just said…I couldn't believe it. We didn't talk for a good while. And I was pretty pissed at you, actually." Haymitch laughed acerbically.

I rubbed my hands against my jeans. They'd gotten sweaty. "Now things have been… good, better. Up until today. It's like we're healing from the Games together, slowly, but there's so much that the Games ruined. There's so much hurt that just can't be fixed. And she just has such a hard time talking about feelings, you know? So it's like …how can I begin to help her when I can't tell if the messages I'm getting from her are even real," I said. I felt like a loser for sitting here with another man talking about my emotions, but it was helping.

"If I was you, I'd lay it all on the line."

"But I have." I thought I had, at least.

He shrugged and took a drink from his glass. "Look, if you want answers, go to her. I can only help so much. She can tell you more'n I can." And he added, "And stop feelin' so goddamn sorry for yourself. You're not some weak, unworthy twerp. You won the damn Hunger Games!"

Haymitch's words gave me more clarity on the situation. I guess I had just been feeling way too sorry about myself to think clearly. In a rare moment of sentimentality, he added, "Just listen to your heart. I think you know the person Katniss really wants."

Maybe I should be just more upfront with Katniss. In my never-ending attempts to not scare her away, maybe I haven't told her everything I should, everything she deserved to hear. We needed to talk everything out, and like Haymitch said, lay it all on the line, all of our issues. I was just letting my self-pity cloud over reason. I needed to talk to her, if she would forgive my behavior enough to hear what I had to say. I said good-night to Haymitch and took the chance that Katniss was here in the village, too, and walked over to her house.

Approaching the front door, I noticed the bag still hanging where I put it so many hours ago. Guess that meant she wasn't here. Leaving Haymitch's, I had built my hopes up, and they quickly dropped. I still tried the door just in case, though, and it was unlocked. Maybe she was there after all.

The dark sky outside did nothing to light the inside of the foyer as I walked in. I was standing in complete darkness. My heart rose in my chest as I heard noises. I stepped forward but my leg hit something, and I hollered out in pain. _Shit_. Was somebody here? Did somebody break in?

Then I heard Katniss' strangled voice. "No…no…God… Let me go!" Oh, no. Katniss was crying out from somewhere in the shadows. Oh, no, oh, no. Somebody had broken in and they had Katniss. What the hell! I had to get to a light switch.

Katniss continued to scream out loud as I was frantically feeling the walls. I could hear her moans, but I couldn't figure out where they were coming from. It sounded like they were coming from this room, but it was so dark that I couldn't see a thing. I began to grow somewhat hysterical as I fumbled around for some sort of protrusion on the wall. I tripped over some piece of furniture lying in the floor and cried out loud as yet another shot of pain travelled up my leg.

"Peeta…God, no...No!" she shrieked. "Let him go!"

Oh, God. She wasn't being kidnapped. She was having a nightmare. Where was she?

She sounded horrified. Absolutely horrified. She was probably back in the arena right now, re-living Hell. I finally found a light switch, and the room became illuminated. I frantically took in the sights: it sure _looked_ like someone had broken in…everything was in ruins, and there were even holes in the walls. What the hell had happened? I couldn't investigate anything because there in the middle of the floor was Katniss, thrashing her limbs and hollering. She took up my entire attention. I carefully maneuvered around broken glass on the carpet to approach her and try to wake her up.

"Don't touch him!" She yelled the last phrase so clearly and loudly that I flinched.

I took her in my arms and noticed her hair and body were drenched in sweat. "Katniss," I whispered soothingly, "Katniss, baby, please wake up," I kept pleading. Her voice was hoarse as she yelled, "Peeta!" clearly not soothed at all. My panic increased as I rocked her back and forth. "Katniss, wake up. Wake up!" I said louder. I felt helpless and guilty. I just wanted to pull her out of this. She was probably having a nightmare because I had abandoned her. I wanted to punch myself in the face—I had done this. All of my angry feelings from before melted away as I looked at her in my arms. How could I have ever been upset with her?

"Nooo!" Her face was screwed up in an appalling grimace as she continued kicking her arms and legs. She just wouldn't wake up. Witnessing her in this vulnerable state, I wanted to cry. I could barely hold her as she moved about on the floor, inconsolable. "Shhh, honey, shhh, it's me," I leaned in and whispered in her ear. "It's Peeta! I'm okay…It's okay…I'm here," I repeated, still rocking her desperately. "Wake up! _Please_, wake up." I urgently kissed her face, then her lips. She jerked and her eyes snapped opened in shock. Wide-eyed and terrified, Katniss sucked in huge huffs of air, gasping for breath. She looked at my face and then began to weep, hiding her entire face with her hands.

"Oh, thank God," I whispered, tucking her stray strands of hair behind her ears. I tried to move her hands, but she kept them firmly over top of her face, crying into her palms. Her chest was heaving as if she'd run a mile. I looked at her in compassion and worry. I had no idea what to say. "Katniss," was my litany as I pulled her against my body again and softly rocked her in my arms. "Shhh…I'm sorry…"

I sat up to a sitting position on the floor, and Katniss sat up, too, to hug me. She opened her legs to wrap them around my waist as she sat down entwined with me. She hugged me tighter than ever before, sobbing into my shirt without shame. My hands ran up and down her back, somewhat difficult to do because of her wet shirt clinging to her body.

"Peeta…My dream…They killed you," she cried. My forehead dropped to meet hers. We were so close we breathed in each other's breath. "I'm right here. It wasn't real," I calmed her. Tears fell from her eyes and she leaned forward to delicately press her mouth to mine. I was pleasantly surprised and responded by pulling her even closer to me as I moaned out my approval. All displeasure from earlier today were swept away as we both remembered the feel of one another.

Soon her kisses became a little more needy—both enthusiastic and passionate—and I was suddenly being drugged by her soft lips moving so sweetly against mine. They were full and soft and slightly wet…I was quickly losing myself in the smell and taste and feel of Katniss. She moved herself up to actually sit on my waist, and that made our heads almost level. One of my hands held her ass to firmly press her against me as the other held the back of her head, urging her lips to mine. Dammit, I needed this girl, and I needed her to feel how much I loved and wanted her and tell her that her dreams were just dreams…that there was no way in hell I'd ever go anywhere in real life. Never.

Our mouths parted open and our tongues met one another, lazily stroking and caressing. We were made for this. Her teeth gently bit my bottom lip, and she immediately swiped her tongue across it afterwards. At that, I opened my eyes in shock. That was fantastic. I reluctantly broke the kiss to regain my senses and to breathe. "Katniss, wait," I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers again, "Are you okay?"

She nodded and grinned, moving in to kiss me more, but I smiled against her lips instead of responding. "But baby…" I started to say, and she interrupted me. "I just need you, Peeta," she hoarsely said.

How could I not react to that? I took charge of the kiss this time around and moved Katniss to her back on the carpet. Her hair was coming out of her braid in tiny wisps all around her face, and she stared at me, panting and open-mouthed, as I softly lowered my body to hers to resume the kisses that seemed to revive both of us. Her hands grasped my shirt, pulling me down to her harder, so hard I thought I would surely crush her, but she seemed to like it because she moaned against my lips. I still lifted myself from her a tiny bit, though, placing both of my hands on either side of her face as her hands explored the flesh of my back under my shirt. I was getting hard and didn't want her to feel _just_ how much I was reacting to this pleasant surprise.

I was in heaven. This was simply perfect. The feeling of Katniss' body under mine, squirming and responding with equal eagerness, was simply the best sensation I'd ever felt. I wasn't prepared when Katniss took my shirt in her hands and insistently tugged upwards. I left her mouth in mild confusion but helped her out by taking it off myself. She smiled appreciatively at my chest and I looked at her strangely. "Something you like?" I smirked, feeling kind of full of myself. She nodded, wordless, and reached out a hand to stroke my chest. I gulped and lowered myself to her, placing open-mouthed kisses along her neck like she liked me to.

Things were speeding up a little too rapidly, so I began to kiss her neck slowly, tantalizing the skin. She turned her head away to give me better access, and I nipped and sucked and kissed her while I heard—as well as felt—the noises from her throat telling me not to stop. The sounds coming from her were making me a possessive mad-man. I couldn't get enough of her, and I explored every inch of the sweet-tasting skin of her neck. I tested my luck and moved her shirt a bit to the side to kiss and lick her clavicle, too.

I took in the scene: lying on the floor of Katniss' dim, trashed living room were two teenagers making out and groping feverishly. It was almost funny, and I almost suggested to Katniss that we stop to talk about why the room was in this state. I also almost suggested that we move next-door to get more comfortable…maybe in my bed…but I knew that would ruin the moment, this moment we so desperately have been needing to have of just losing our inhibitions and truly enjoying one another.

I suddenly felt bold and deserving of Katniss as she grasped the muscles of my arm. She wanted this. She wanted me, too…I was giving her what she wanted. Why did I doubt myself so much?

I lifted the material of her shirt just a tiny bit as I feathered my hand across her stomach. She squirmed, and I smiled into her neck. Inching down, I kissed the exposed skin of her stomach like I had with her neck, biting and sucking and softly licking, sometimes leaning back to blow on the areas I had just wet with my tongue. I didn't really know what I was doing, but it felt so good to be able to explore her like this. Her heaving breasts told me that she was enjoying it, too. Her hands were clutching my hair and didn't leave as I travelled back to her lips to feel her tongue against mine once more. Her breathing was labored, so she backed out of the kiss shortly afterwards, panting against my mouth and smiling while gasping for air. I hoped I had gotten her as turned on as she had gotten me.

"Tell me what you want, Katniss," I whispered into her mouth, looking first at her lips and then up to her eyes. "Do you want me to let you go?"

Her heavy eyes opened a bit wider and she shook her head rapidly. "No, no," she responded.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked her daringly, teasingly. I stroked her neck with my finger and kissed it once more. Speaking into her ear now, I murmured, "I don't know if you don't tell me…Tell me. What do you want me to do?" I honestly had no clue where this multiple personality had come from, but I went with it. She seemed to get pleasure from the way I was speaking to her. And a tiny part of me admitted that I really didn't know what to do…I needed her to help guide me…

"Touch me," she said breathlessly. "Like you did the other night," she finished, looking away from me. Oh, Jesus. She _had_ said that she wanted to try what we did again sometime, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. I looked at her in disbelief.

She was so sexy. Her braid was lying on the side of her face on the floor, and curly pieces of hair were still coming loose all around her head. Still slightly damp from her bad dream, her skin was flushed, and her mouth was open, and her breathing was fast….she just looked so damn sexy.

I had dreamed about this almost my entire life, and now it was happening. It was hotter than the other night because I didn't feel as nervous since she wasn't drunk this time. This kind of thing made a person feel drunk, though…

I slowly moved her face to mine again and met her eyes. Her pupils were fully dilated, and she looked a little anxious. Her tongue left her mouth as she moistened her bottom lip. Some growling noise came from me as I lowered my head to hers once more. My tongue traced the path hers had just gone before delving inside her mouth to massage the tip of hers. She clawed at my hair as she tried to speed up my actions, but I made sure to take my time with everything. I sunk my teeth into her wet lip and heard her moan. Though my eyes were closed, they rolled back at the sound. I wanted to do anything in my power to make sure she would continue feeling pleasure enough for these sounds to come out of her…

One of my hands was still keeping me elevated. I refused to give Katniss all of my weight…I didn't want her to notice this raging hard-on I had gotten that was stuck painfully between my leg and the fabric of my jeans. What if she felt it and it scared her off? All of this just had me so aroused…More than I could ever remember. Then again, I'd never done this kind of thing with anybody before. I was surprised that I had even managed to maintain control for this long, that my leg hadn't decided to protest or that I hadn't gotten too 'excited.' I knew it was important to prolong this kind of thing, so I focused on that as I continued to tease and pleasure her.

My other hand sneaked down her neck, between her breasts, over her stomach again, and landed on the button to her pants. I looked at her in the middle of our soft kisses for a sign of approval. She imperceptibly nodded. My eyelids were so heavy I could barely keep them open, but I forced myself to look down as I unbuttoned her pants with one hand. The noise from the zipper seemed loud in the room as Katniss' dark green panties were bared. I traced the edge of them before snaking my hand back up to caress her stomach again.

I removed my lips from hers and again latched on to the spot on her neck that caused her to cry out. My hand went further up her body and under her shirt. I felt her bra, and with my index finger, I traced the bottom of it from the left to the right like I had done with her panties. She sat back on her elbows and took off her shirt before I could even process it. Holy shit. Katniss was topless. I probably looked like a pervert staring at her chest, but her breasts were still heaving, and they swelled out of her black bra so beautifully that I couldn't stop gaping at them.

She quickly reached out and started to put her shirt back on. "What—is everything okay?" I asked in a bit of a panic.

"Yes—no—I guess I'm just being too forward…I saw the look on your face…" she bit her bottom lip as she said that, not helping the matter at all. She tried to put her shirt back on, but I stilled her movements.

"Huh? What look?"

"The look of…disgust on your face…You must think I'm a huge slut, I bet…"

I looked at her like she was insane. "What are you talking about, you crazy girl…you're absolutely beautiful." I shook my head and looked at her chest again, my Adam's apple bobbing as I swallowed. "Just beautiful. Don't you recognize lust when you see it, Katniss?"

She put her shirt back on the carpet and laid her body back on the floor, slowly nodding. She suddenly looked bashful, and I knew I had to push her doubts out of her mind. I caressed her face and ran my thumb along her cheek bone. "Baby…don't you remember what we said the other night?"

"I'm the one for you, and you're the one for me," she said in a small voice. I couldn't stop the look of adoration radiating from my eyes at hearing that. "And same goes for me," I said, leaning back down to rest my weight on my left hand so I could kiss her plump lips softly. I put my right leg in between hers, sitting up a bit on my knees as we continued to sweetly kiss. Her hands ran up and down my back, feeling the long muscles and tracing the dip of my spine back and forth. My left hand dropped to let my weight rest on my elbow as I leaned down a little bit more and felt the skin of our bellies touch. Being this close to her felt unbelievably perfect. I just couldn't use another word besides perfect. To describe her or this act.

I used my other hand to touch her face and hold her neck, but she wanted to speed things up again. I was going painfully slow, too slow for her. She grabbed my hand and pressed it to her breast, full and supple under my hand. After a second, I removed it and ran a hand through my hair. I felt like I was going to cum in my pants. My hair stuck out in all directions as I looked down at her. This was unreal. And it wasn't taking advantage of her, because I asked her what she wanted and this was it… Sensing my apprehension, she grabbed my hand and placed it back on her chest. "It's okay," she told me. I closed my eyes. Was this really happening?

"Kat…you're sure..?" I asked her.

She nodded. "I want you, Peeta. Remember what I said? You and only you," she reminded me. Without even discussing what had happened earlier today, she knew some of my behavior from earlier stemmed from jealousy about Gale. Guess she felt bad about it…We both had so many useless uncertainties… She knew me well enough to dissuade my doubts, and I hopefully had done the same for her. I loved her. I loved this girl so much.

With my hand cupping the bottom of her breast, I used my thumb to feel it in its entirety and rub across her nipple. I was above her bra, but it still felt amazing. It fit in my palm perfectly. I kept staring at her chest as it rose and fell with each breath until she spoke.

"Do you…do you want me to take it off?" she asked me, referring to her bra. I gulped.

"No, no, it's okay." I met her eyes and hoped she didn't think I was being too awkward. "You're too beautiful, you know that?" I said incredulously. She rolled her eyes at me and lifted her hips slightly off the ground. Giving me a pointed look, I moved away from her, kissing her one last time, and sat up on my knees. With my two hands I tugged her pants down past her ass, and her hips, and her thighs…until both of her long, tan legs were free. I had lost some of my earlier confidence as Katniss now lay in just her underwear. She wanted me to touch her, and I suddenly felt a lot of pressure to do it right. Both of my hands traveled from her ankles up to her upper thighs, and she fidgeted a bit.

I moved back up to her and lay on my right side like I had on the bed the other night. With my fingertips, I traced a path down her body to the top of her panties again and paused momentarily. I was about to do this…This was happening…

Sucking in a breath, I moved my hand lower to the plumpness down below and, using a few fingers, stroked from the bottom to the top, feeling full, damp flesh underneath the thin barrier separating me from her. I settled my fingers back at the top. It felt soft yet slightly hard, and she gasped in shock at the contact. Pausing for a minute, I tried my best to remember what she liked from the other night. I moved my hand around in small, calculated circles and was rewarded with tiny whimpers from Katniss' mouth.

Growing empowered, I moved my hand inside her bra while caressing her below. After I moved my thumb over her nipple, she lifted her limp arms that were lying on both sides of her and ran them though my hair to pull me to her lips. I was managing to do quite a few things at once…kiss her…play with her nipple…and rub her below. My cock started to throb in my pants as Katniss clutched at my hair and slowly rose her hips to rhythmically match the movements of my hand.

I couldn't stop the movements of my hips while she began to get louder and tremble. It was impossible not to ease some of the pain my throbbing dick was feeling in response to this satisfaction Katniss was reacting to. This was astonishing…mind-blowing…incredible…unbelievable…yet, somehow, _real_. I slowly and softly rubbed myself against her leg, and we both lazily kissed each other as our muscles clenched and our throats let out noises involuntarily.

Katniss removed her mouth from mine, and her head fell to the side. I became absorbed with moving my hand and bringing her the most pleasure I could, and I stared at our body parts moving together in awe. Her stomach muscles tightened, and her legs splayed open wider. I stared at her down there…her legs were so tan and toned and so perfectly led up to the most beautiful part of her body…moisture was literally surrounding her panties, and I moved my hand a little lower and felt how wet she was. Jesus Christ…I had done that to her. I had her so turned on that her arousal was actually seeping out and moistening the fabric of her underwear. I closed my eyes. Everything was too much…I had never done anything this sexual before, though thousands of fantasies had included Katniss being receptive to me touching her like this. _Nothing_ compared to sharing this moment with her in real life, though. I had a feeling nothing ever would.

Katniss protested when I moved my hand below to feel her wetness. Her hips moved more frantically to get the friction she wanted, so I moved my fingers back to the top and happily gave it to her. My hand pressed down to add more pressure to where her noises signaled she liked best. Her legs and torso incessantly twitched as her labored breathing told me she was close to finishing. My breath was frantic, also, breathing close to her ear as I continued to stare at her gorgeous body. She turned her head towards mine, and now we stared at each other with dark awe-struck eyes, panting. She clutched my shirt and pulled me urgently to her mouth, where we tried to kiss but mostly just succeeded in suctioning our lips together and groaning into each other's mouths. I sped up the actions of my hand and my own hips, grinding against her side as she lost any sense of herself she had left and cried my name out loudly into the empty room. "Oh, my God," I barely whispered into her ear, feeling myself about to lose it just listening to her. Removing my head from hers to watch her face, I spilled my entire load in my pants while being fascinated at Katniss' expression of ecstasy.

Katniss squeezed her eyes shut and moaned one last time before pushing my hand away from her. I just moved it to her stomach and marveled at how large it looked on her small tummy that was rising and falling quickly in exertion. Leaving feather-light touches along her torso, I regained my breath as Katniss and I both came back down to reality.

I kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck. A small moment of self-doubt entered my mind. This was the first time we had done anything this intimate, not counting the drunken encounter, and I was praying that everything was as good for her as it was for me…that she wouldn't be too scared by the intensity and push me away or something…

"Wow," she whispered, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head. The movement just made her svelte body look even more enticing. I loudly swallowed. "Yeah…wow…" I repeated, sitting up too.

Her cheeks became a little red. "Peeta," she whispered, "Um…do you…Do you need some help, too?"

I didn't realize what she was asking about for a couple seconds. At my silence, she said quietly, "I…I don't really know what to do, but I want to—"

Then I became embarrassed as I tried to answer her question. "Oh! Oh..no..it's okay."

"But…it wouldn't be fair…" she started, but I put a finger up to her lips.

"I kind of already…" I waved my hands in front of me in no particular way. God, this was embarrassing. Could I be honest and just say 'I came in my pants because you're so hot?' "I came when you did," I whispered.

"Really?" she asked. She looked down at that area, but luckily my jeans were dark and you couldn't see anything. I was suddenly feeling the sticky uncomfortable mess more prevalently under the scrutiny of her eyes.

"Yeah...I couldn't help it," I said, feeling heat creep up my neck as my whole face burned with humiliation. Oh, well. It still was great. "That was…that was amazing, babe," I added, still in awe from what just happened. Then I remembered my manners. "Was it—I mean, did you like it, too?"

She looked bashful and adorable as hell. "I think you know the answer to that," she said shyly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to any and all of you who have taken time to review this. I'm glad that most of you seem to be enjoying everything so far, and hopefully everyone had a happy and safe holiday season! Thanks again. I really appreciate the kind words so far. J**

**Peeta's POV**

As Katniss moved to put on her clothes and get dressed, I stayed shirtless and looked at the room more closely.

"Hey, Katniss," I said, more worried now, "Are you sure you're okay? What even happened in here?" I motioned to the ruined room that had had me so afraid someone had broken in.

"Oh. I'm fine now that you're here," she cryptically answered, not responding to the last question. It made me feel like shit, knowing that me leaving her earlier today probably hurt her and maybe even caused her to have a nightmare. …Did she get so upset that she did this to the room by herself?

Looking and feeling extremely guilty, I asked, "But what happened in here?" Her eyes fell to the carpet and she shrugged and answered, "I kind of broke everything."

That basically answered my question. I upset her, so she came here and let it out. "I'm _so_ sorry I left like that. I was…feeling really bad." I grabbed up-turned couch cushions and put them on the couch. Sitting down, I ran my fingers through my hair, really feeling the need to change clothes because of what we had just done but feeling this conversation was too important to mention that just yet. I pushed the fact that I was sitting in my own semen aside to look at her and apologize. "I never meant to hurt you or …make you upset in any way."

"But that's just the thing, Peeta..." she replied, looking dejected while just a second ago she looked happy. "I deserve it. I do that kind of thing to you all the time and never stop to think about how you might feel about it. I just think about me."

"Stop. No, you don't," I responded. That was ridiculous. I knew for a fact that wasn't true. Sure, she had a habit of running from problems when the going got tough, but it'd only be to mull things over in her mind before facing the problem. It's not like she was selfish by giving herself time for herself to think. Being an introvert myself, I completely understood this trait.

"Yes, I do! I did it just yesterday when—"

I interrupted her to finish the sentence for her. "When you were hungover and confused because you were trying to put the pieces together about what had happened when you were drunk, plus you were upset about Gale for like an entire day," I added.

"Peeta…" she whispered and sat down next to me on the couch. "You put me on this pedestal like I can do no wrong. It's not realistic."

Out of habit, I tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Not true…I just give you the credit you deserve. You're kind of a big deal," I said cheesily and smiled. She smiled, too, and stuck out her tongue.

"You had the right to be upset earlier, too, you know," she said, wedging herself closer to me and resting her head onto my chest as I put my arm around her. "I'm sure after the news my mom gave you, and then with Gale lurking around…So you don't have to apologize either, really."

"Yeah…About that…" I prepared myself for how I was going to word this. I began to play with the end of her braid. "Can I ask why you visited him last night? And didn't tell me? Not that I'm being controlling or anything, I mean, you can do whatever you want, but—"

"I didn't mean to keep it from you," she interjected, leaning back and looking a little guilty. "I just forgot to mention it. Honestly. I guess my meetings with Gale are best remembered forgotten," she sadly smiled.

"Why's that?" What had this guy put her through?

"Cause…he's just changed so much…or I have, I don't know…and I just don't really like being around him anymore," she said. "But it's kind of hard when we've been friends for years." Her eyes widened as she remembered something. "So…uh…After you left today, he kissed me," she said speedily, "but don't worry—I punched him for doing it."

I was stuck between amusement and anger. The nerve of that guy! I sadly pondered the fact that Gale and I would probably never be friendly with each other simply because he was guilty of liking the same girl I did. But really, he wasn't _that _likable anyway, at least not to me. He's always seemed domineering and demanding. But then again, a lot of girls liked that kind of thing. And I couldn't forget he had always been there for Katniss when she needed help.

"You really punched him?" I asked incredulously, picturing her taking a swing at Gale's face and blood gushing out of his nose.

"Above his stomach, yeah," she laughed. The punch to the face would have been really impressive, but I'm still glad that she stood up for herself.

"Ah…What'd you go see him for last night again?"

"On the way home, his mom gave me some medicine for my hangover. We chatted. She told me he was working in the mines now," she explained. "So since the mines are right by my mom's house, I just stopped by there before I came here. I don't really know why."

"And it didn't go well?" I assumed from the conversation from earlier.

"Things with him never do," she said exasperatedly. When she didn't continue, I nudged the back of her head with my shoulder. "I just want things to be like they used to be, and I'm learning that they never will. All we do is fight. And he keeps adding more things to make me mad every time we talk."

"He wants more and you don't?"

"Yep. That's what it all comes down to, I guess." I was so elated that fireworks should have been going off outside.

I didn't want to get too smug about anything, but from what she had just told me in addition to everything from last night, I was feeling on top of the world. I had no reason to doubt her or myself anymore. Sure, I probably could build up a little self-esteem, but I was genuinely satisfied with myself for somehow miraculously ending up with Katniss. But, if the situation were flipped around and I were in Gale's shoes, I wouldn't pressure Katniss if I knew she really wanted to be with someone else. And no way in hell would I force myself on her like he did. She could make her own choices. That's what I didn't like about that guy: he thought his way was always right, and it's not. Relationships have to have respect in them, and if you don't respect someone else's opinions or choices, what foundation do you have?

I didn't know if I should let her fight her own battles with this one or step in, though. I wasn't sure if that was overstepping boundaries, plus I'd never been in a fight before, and I wasn't sure how to even punch or anything. "Sorry he's not being understanding," I told her truthfully. "Can I help in any way or…?"

She laughed and turned her head to kiss my chest, looking up at me and sitting up more fully. "No, I can handle Gale. He's just frustrating."

After what Katniss and I had just done, and after our little chat, I stopped feeling doubtful that she enjoyed the kiss, especially since she told me she punched him afterwards. I smirked, asking, "So… how was the smooch?" She knew I was just picking.

"Nothing like it is with you," she replied simply. Hmm. Good to know.

"Oh, yeah?" I said playfully, arching my eyebrows and wrapping my arm around her tighter. Her head automatically fell to my chest again, and her hands ran along my stomach lightly. It felt nice.

"Yeah," she said, blissfully sighing.

Even though the moment was pretty ideal again, I wanted to make sure things were okay inside her head. She had basically attacked me once she woke up, not that I was complaining, but it kind of bothered me that she had a nightmare that I was responsible for, and that I got side-tracked from my original goal originally of figuring our emotions out.

"So you were yelling pretty loudly when I came here to find you. What were you dreaming about?" I quietly asked. She shrugged again. "The normal," she answered. That was horrible that she had nightmares so regularly that she had a nightmare category of 'normal.'

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "What would that be?"

"Being in the Games again," she quietly replied. "And you and I both being tortured by the Capitol. Not being able to move to save you. You die every time," she concluded.

"Katniss…" I held her closer to me. "I feel responsible that you had a nightmare... I'm sincerely sorry."

"It's really okay, Peeta. I'm going to have nightmares like it or not. You can't fix everything," she told me.

I looked at her and told her seriously, "But I want to."

She looked downwards towards my chest where her hand was playing with my hair there, touching it in little circles so that it tickled a little. It made my dick twitch the tiniest bit, drawing my attention again to the stickiness in my pants. I really needed to shower. "So, wanna go next door?" I asked her.

**Katniss' POV**

I had just had my very first orgasm that _wasn't_ when I was drunk and _wasn't_ when I was dreaming. My Very. First. One. From Peeta's skilled hands. It was incredible. Everything felt _wonderful_, and I was happier than I could ever remember being, but I still felt guilty afterwards for some reason. It was like I had had no control over my body, and I wondered how slutty I looked laying there with my legs spread wide open, how recklessly horny I sounded by making all those noises… Were these feelings normal? Was this the kind of thing that teenage couples normally did together? I didn't understand.

Then I felt dumb again as I wondered if Peeta had done that with anyone else but me before. He was awfully good at what he did and seemed to know what to do without having problems… I disregarded my insecurities, though, as Peeta and I sat on the couch and talked.

I felt reinvigorated as we both entered Peeta's house, still high from the euphoria before and because our conversation put us on good terms again. It was such a contrast to the horrible emptiness I felt just hours ago. Peeta has a way of making me feel better no matter what. He makes me talk to him and is always patient when I can't think of the right words to express myself. I like it.

If I was honest, I was feeling a little self-conscious now, too. What must Peeta think of me after all of that stuff we just did? And how was it possible to _feel_ this many damn things at once?

Peeta suggested that I get some stuff from my bathroom to bring to his place—toothbrush, some body wash, conditioner, things like that. We emptied our arms full of toiletries onto his kitchen table and stood awkwardly still for a moment or two. "So, I should probably shower if that's okay," I said.

"Oh, I was just about to do the same thing," he responded. "You go first." He smiled at me.

"No, really, it's your house. You go first. It's okay," I said, smiling back.

"You stay here just as much as I do, babe. But…We could always shower together," he suggested. He looked at me with some type of look on his face…Fear? "I mean, just a suggestion, no big deal, but you can go first. I don't mind," he said, looking away. "Plus there's a downstairs bathroom t—"

"No, no. I mean, yes. We can shower together. Why not?" It was now or never, right? I couldn't go on acting like a little girl forever. Especially not after what we just did, what I had _asked_ him to do to me.

He pulled me a little closer. "Upstairs has got two shower-heads, you know," he informed me.

"Nice! Well…" I twiddled my fingers together. Why was I feeling nervous? Was it because he still hadn't put his shirt back on? I never knew Peeta was so muscular, so…_manly_. He even had chest hair…not a lot, but an attractive amount across his chest and then going down and trailing down into his jeans. And I never noticed how big his arms were, either. I'd obviously seen them many times, but without a shirt on, the muscles looked extra large, but not super beefy or anything. I almost shivered just adoring his upper body.

"Well, let's go then!" He grabbed my hand and, after picking up my shampoo and soap, we walked up the steps to his room.

"Peeta…" I began to say as we stepped into the bathroom. Everything that had happened made me feel somewhat dirty, even though I had battled with myself over thinking that since the night I had that dream. I had to get it off my chest. I had just done something that respectable girls _don't_ do, and now I was about to hop in the shower nude with Peeta to top it off. I wasn't sure if I was making a wise decision. "You don't think I'm a slut or anything, do you?" I couldn't reach his eyes as I only just made out the offending word. 'Slut' or 'whore' were the only two terms I knew to describe people who took such pleasure from lewd acts like I had just done. All of the insults I had gotten in school filled my mind and came rushing back to memory. I was a Seam Slut.

Peeta sternly looked at me. "No!" he said firmly. "No. No way. I'd never think that. I'd never think that because that's not true." He sighed. "Do you know what the definition of that word even is?"

"Um…" I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands. They hung inelegantly next to my body as I stared at the wall. "Someone who gets pleasure from…doing dirty things," is the only way I could describe it. My cheeks had to be flaming by this point.

"Define dirty, then," he provoked. I was speechless. I couldn't really define it. "Unclean, I guess," I said meekly, stupidly.

"Do you think what we just did was dirty?"

"No…I mean…No, but wasn't it?"

"I didn't think it was. Actually, if I had to describe it, I would say 'special'. Two people that care about each other bringing each other the best feelings they can." The way he was looking at me made me feel uncomfortable. But not uncomfortable like Gale's gazes did…more like…_adored_…and the attention was a little much. How come he was so elegant with words? He made me want to melt in a puddle on the floor right there.

"Babe, look at me." I did. "Sluts—I really hate that word—but they…they're _promiscuous_, you know? The word is supposed to be like… like someone that does that kind of thing with a lot of people, so that it doesn't mean anything...I mean, I'm sure it could mean a lot actually, who knows, but the way _other_ people think, you know? _Other _people don't think it means anything 'cause they think the girl is just impure or something…Not that that's always the case," he finished. He was rambling big time. I looked at him, amused at him getting slightly flustered. At my face, he smirked and looked away, saying, "Shut up. But really…you don't do that kind of thing with a lot of other guys, do you? No. And did it mean something to you? Yes." He looked back at my eyes hopefully. "It did, didn't it?"

I timidly responded that it did. "It's just…you don't think…I don't want you to think differently of me."

He shook his head. "I don't. I swear. I..I don't want to creep you out, but I've dreamed about being with you like this for so long," he admitted. "Nothing you could do would make me think of you in a bad way, I swear."

"Okay, I believe you. Sorry. This is just new for me," I said, feeling dumb. Trying to be sly, I then asked him, "Is it…new for you, too?"

"Everything's new for me, but I like it," he said grinning. Then he winked, unbuttoned his pants, and let them slide down his legs. "You should know this, Kat!"

Feeling relieved, I nodded. At his example, I took off my clothes until I was again in my underwear and bra. My panties were grossly clinging to me because of the fluid that had gushed out of me from earlier. I suddenly remembered that the same thing happened to Peeta, except that his problem was probably much, _much_ worse than mine. I didn't know much, but I knew how babies were made and stuff. I knew that there was a lot of mess that happened when a guy had an orgasm.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath of air as I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. I fought the urge to cover myself. My breasts spilled out, and Peeta didn't even try to hide his curiosity as he ogled me. I smiled and snapped my fingers at his face until he looked up, grinning impishly. "Sorry," he apologized, "they're just really nice looking." I arched my eyebrows. I had always thought they were rather small and ordinary.

I put my fingers under the waist-band of my underwear, readying myself for baring myself completely to Peeta. He was currently turning on the shower. The steam rushed out into the cool air and steamed up my skin. Quickly, I pulled down my panties and stepped out of them and into the shower, shutting the curtain behind me. Why was I so anxious to have him finally see all of me? He already had before, right?

In the next moment, he stepped a little awkwardly into the shower behind me, probably trying to get balanced and not slip on his bad leg. He wet his body under the showerhead with his eyes closed under the spray of the water. I looked like the creepy one now as I stared at his body. He was cupping himself with his two hands, but I still stared down. I was in awe. Everything about him looked so masculine, and I was beginning to feel tingly again. I was taking a shower with Peeta!

His hip-bones slightly jutted out from his flat stomach, and his leg muscles looked huge. I wondered why I never realized how muscular he really was. He was definitely strong, but his muscles fit his body. It wasn't like he looked odd or anything—it was captivating…attractive… He turned around under the spray of the water to wet the front of his body, and I saw his backside. The side of his upper thigh dipped in to make the faintest line of definition between the front and back muscles of his legs from around the knee all the way up to his butt. Even his butt was muscular.

He turned back around to face me, this time moving his hands so he was completely exposed. The hair on his chest I was playing with earlier led down to darker, coarser hair between his legs. Then I saw the best part of his body, fascinating but a little scary. He hung against his left leg, looking soft and fleshy and somewhat long. I'd seen men's genitals before because of my mother's line of work, but never before had I ever been so intrigued or interested in examining a penis before. I honestly thought it was the most attractive one I had ever seen.

Peeta mocked me by snapping his fingers by my face. "Caught ya peekin," he grinned. Embarrassing. I played it off the best I could as I tried to act like I normally would in a shower, unbraiding and wetting my hair. "Well, you've seen _me_ before, right? So…" I lifted my arms to the back of my head to untangle my hair from my braid, the motion jutting my chest out, and Peeta glanced down at it again.

"Yeah, but I told you I didn't really look that time, and I didn't," he said, still grinning.

"Okay, so I looked! You're looking too!" We were giggling now. I was _giggling_. He stepped forward and placed his hands on my hips, leaning down to press his forehead to mine like he so often did because of his height. He smiled. "I'm joking. Look all you want." My cheeks were a bit red, and I didn't look back down though I wanted to. I just kissed him, very softly, very lightly, and very shortly.

"I've never showered with such a pretty girl." My head fell to his chest and I turned it to the side to rest it there, hugging him to me. The spray of the water and feeling Peeta's nudity against me felt really soothing for some reason. "Showered with a bunch of ugly ones though?" I picked at him.

"Never showered with anyone else before but you," he said, resting his chin on top of my head. "Never _seen_ anyone else naked except for you," he added.

"No one ever? Not even like…pictures?" I asked curiously.

"Oh. Well, maybe a few pictures… My brothers have dirty magazines I know about…Besides that, just myself." I felt him shrug. "Why? You've seen a lot?"

"Well, my family…and some of my mom's patients for the past sixteen years…"

"Ah," he said and became quiet again. "Well, I hope I don't look too bad to you," he said quickly, then added, "Let's wash up, mm?"

I backed away and softly muttered, "Of course you don't look bad…"

The shower was actually a lot of fun after the shock of being naked in Peeta's presence wore off. We washed ourselves facing each other, laughing and joking like we were doing something normal. I thought the double shower-head thing was brilliant. We even 'helped' each other wash at certain points.

"So, not being rude or anything, at all," Peeta said, lifting his hands up in innocence, "but why don't you have any hair anywhere?" He motioned under my stomach. Oh. I looked away, embarrassed even though I knew that wasn't his intent. "Don't blush, it's fine, I…I like it...I was just curious," he said.

"The Capitol ripped all my hair out," I said, not meeting his eyes. Even in the middle of a shower I couldn't escape the Capitol.

He gasped. "What?! Really?"

"Yeah…" I didn't really understand his reaction. "I thought they did the same stuff to you?"

"No…" he said. "Wait, does that mean that you were naked in front of them?"

I nodded. "They spent hours tearing out all my body hair and exfoliating and rubbing stuff all over my skin. The hair still hasn't grown back…I don't know if it will," I finished, turning my back to him to rinse shampoo out of my hair.

"At least you don't have to bother with shaving then," he joked, hugging me from behind. He didn't mean to make me feel bad—I understood that. It just sucked that I looked stupid. Sensing my anxiety, he squeezed me close, so close that I felt all of him. "Hey," he whispered in my ear, putting his chin on my shoulder, "I like it," he said plainly.

"I look twelve," I responded.

"No, you don't. It's beautiful. You're beautiful." I reluctantly smiled at his sweetness. We finished rinsing off together.

Our nighttime routines made us feel domestic, and internally I was beaming. We dried off together, then put on our pajamas, then we even brushed our teeth and washed our faces next to each other in front of the mirror. We sat on the bed, and I brushed my hair while he combed his. It felt ordinary, like we had been doing it forever and ever. We didn't even take any painkillers before we went to sleep, spooning with what I can guarantee were matching smiles on our faces.

Before we dozed off, he whispered that he had to work early in the morning but that I was more than welcome to sleep in and do whatever I wanted around the house before he got off that evening. My mind was too elated to even think about the next day. I didn't want tomorrow to come.

I vaguely remember him kissing my forehead the next morning. I opened my eyes at the sensation but groaned and immediately slipped back into sleep. When the light and noises from outside the window woke me up for the second time, I stepped out of bed. My knapsack was still in the room, and I got dressed for the day. I didn't know what I was going to get into. I thought about hunting, but I had everything at my mom's place. So that's what I decided to do: pick up stuff from that house to bring to my house up in the village, to have it in closer proximity for when I was with Peeta, which was almost always.

I got to my mom's house at about noon. Gale was there at the kitchen table again having an injury mended, not even in his dirty work clothes. What the hell? I shook my head as I walked into my room without greeting him or Mom. I gathered up a bunch of clothes and personal belongings, including my bow and arrow. By the time I had collected everything I wanted to take with me, Gale had left the house.

I managed to find an old wagon outside to haul everything off in. Mom asked if I was moving out, and I didn't know how to answer her odd question. I mean, there was no room in that house, and she knew it. If I were to stay there, there would only be the one bed that Prim and I shared for years. Sure, sometimes Prim slept with Mom, and there was always the couch, but everyone needed a little room to have for themselves at night. Prim was almost twelve now, and she was growing. I couldn't hog the bed with her any longer. Not to mention that Mom's and my relationship had never been hunky-dory since the accident over five years ago and living together after the Games would be rough. _And_ not to mention that I had just been given a freaking mansion.

"I guess so," I said in response to her question. "I'll still come around," I let her know.

Not acknowledging what I said, she said, "Prim wants you to go back to school with her. You really should," she advised. I rolled my eyes. "For what? What's the purpose? School was hell for me, and I have no reason to go back," I back-talked her.

She shrugged, nonplussed by my attitude. "Just saying…Prim could really use you."

"No, Mom, she could really use YOU. Her mother who she hasn't known for the majority of her life." I slammed the front door behind me and grabbed the handle to the wagon to begin the journey back to the village.

As I was stupidly hobbling along with the rusty wagon behind me, the woman from the coal mines—Penny, I think her name was—stepped onto the road. She didn't seem to be doing anything, just standing there, emerging from out of nowhere, and she looked around before setting her eyes on me and waving enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes for the second time that day. _Oh, Lord_. Great. I wasn't in the mood for this woman.

"Katniss, was it?" she smiled at me as I came up to where she was.

"Yeah…Penny, right? How are you?" I forced conversation, hoping I could use this wagon as an excuse to look busy and leave.

"Oh, a little tired after the shift, you know," she said. She didn't look dirty at all, not one article of clothing or piece of hair out of place, even after working all night by all that dirt. Gale wasn't dirty either, but maybe he hadn't worked last night… "But I was just going home," she added.

I guess that made sense, since the mines were beyond the Seam heading the other way. I didn't know her well enough to ask her where she lived, hence where she would be going, so I didn't respond. I did that kind of thing a lot because I was what I considered 'socially awkward.' People labeled it as rude, but I just wasn't the bubbly sort of girl. I settled with "Oh." Then I thought of something stupid but sociable to say. "Yeah, I'm sure it's really rough working those crazy hours." Please let this be over.

"Sure is. Didn't your dad used to work night-shift in the mines?" she asked. I started. How would she have known that? I guess from Gale.

"Yeah, he did." I tried to smile but feared it looked fake. "Um, so, it was good seeing you. I have to get going, but I'll see you later?"

"Yep. You sure will. Take care, Katniss," she said in farewell. I continued moving along out of the Seam, and glancing back, noticed she had disappeared again.

I wasn't going to let my mom or the strange encounter with Penny ruin my good mood from last night. It was very easy to push it out of my mind because all I had to do was think of Peeta. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and I couldn't wait to see him later that evening. Is this what falling in love felt like?

**Peeta's POV**

Mother didn't make an appearance all day at the bakery, and I was grateful for that. It gave me the chance to ride out my high from last night. _Holy shit_ were my only thoughts on that. Perfection beyond perfection. When Dad told me last week that I could have the whole weekend off, I definitely didn't think it would be as up-and-down as it ended up being with me and Katniss, but I didn't think it would be anything close to how amazing it was last night. All in all, no complaints.

I'd been working in the bakery for longer than I could remember, so the work was really easy to me once I got on auto-pilot. Bread, rolls, pastries, cakes, register, sweeping, dishes, customers. I had it under control. I enjoyed it. The only thing I didn't like was having to stand up so much, but I brought those poppy seeds with me and managed to do all right.

During my lunch break, I went upstairs to clear out the rest of my room that my brothers had taken over after the Reaping. They had had so little faith in me that they already considered me dead and didn't want to waste my room, so they moved all of their possessions in there. They could have the room, I didn't care. I had a whole house! I checked in my old closet and under my old bed and in all my old drawers to make sure I had everything out of this room that I wanted. I found a lot of stuff that I wasn't even sure had belonged to me, so it took a long time. Most of my break was spent cleaning, and it was angering, because I never kept my room as messy as my brothers did. I was a pretty clean guy.

Under the bed was the worst, just awful. I never used to keep anything under it, but now it was full of debris. All types of stuff was just shoved under it, like clothes and papers and trash, so I tried my best to dig everything out to see what it was. I figured none of it was mine anyway, but I wanted to be sure. I planned on leaving everything out on the floor after I was done fishing it out. I didn't care if my brothers got upset. They obviously didn't care about me.

I pulled out one handful of stuff and found an unopened packet of boxer-briefs I'd never worn. I would be taking them because they belonged to me, and because I was tired of always wearing my boxers. It was alright for bed, but under jeans and stuff was the worst. I also found a few old books of mine and some old sketchbooks. Most of the stuff wasn't mine though, and although I was tempted, I didn't take any of it. I found a baseball glove that I thought would be kind of cool to have, and a wristwatch and a lot of pocketknives and stuff like that, but I threw them all to the side. It wasn't until I stumbled upon a certain magazine that I stopped to examine it closer. The cover had said "Capitol Cuties," and I opened it to find page after page of nude women apparently from the Capitol. I knew I should close the magazine and walk away, but I looked at almost every picture, enthralled by the grossness of the way these women looked. After seeing Katniss last night in the shower, no other woman would compare. All these women looked plastic and unreal with weirdly colored skin and hair.

In the very back of the magazine, though, there was a calendar, and for every month, a different woman was pictured, supposedly representing each district. April had someone from District 4 in a see-through bathing suit made out of fishing net, and District 7 had a muscle-y woman with an ax taking up the picture for July. I skipped to December, and a woman was on her knees in a mud-pit, covered in dirt and trying to look decadent I guess.

This was ridiculous. The entire magazine was horrible, but what was even more horrible was that I felt somewhat horny looking at the expressions on those women's faces. They looked kind of like how Katniss looked on the floor yesterday… And whether I liked the way the women looked or not, I was obviously reacting to their lack of clothes. I shut the magazine and shoved it under the bed along with another handful of clothes and went back downstairs to finish my shift, hiding my boner behind my apron.

The good thing about going home was that I knew I'd be seeing Katniss. The bad thing was that I had to think and plan really hard about how I would find time to secretly masturbate without her suspecting anything. I had been turned-on ever since I looked at that stupid magazine, and for the entire rest of the day all I'd been doing was thinking of her and imagining scenarios where we could do something like what we had done yesterday again. Now I had to walk home awkwardly, but at least I could blame it on my leg. Another good thing was that I had been taking my showers at night and not in the morning, so I could maybe do it there.

It was like when I was a little younger and I used to share a room with Ryan, the younger of my brothers. That was the worst, because I had no privacy. When we got our own rooms, though, just about every night I would touch myself. I always feel the slightest bit guilty afterwards, but after getting caught about half a dozen times by both of my brothers I realized it was something a lot of guys did. And then they told me about how a lot of girls did it, too, and lots of instructional stories were told. So, embarrassing as that time in my life was, I was eternally grateful for it because I finally got to use that particular knowledge yesterday.

Katniss was already showered and standing in front of the stove cooking when I walked in. She was wearing one of my t-shirts that went down mid-thigh. Her slightly-damp hair was loosely drying in waves down her back as she stirred the pot in front of her, singing and slightly moving her hips to her song. Was she trying to kill me?

I came up behind her and massaged her shoulders while I inspected her cooking. "Chicken and dumplings?"

"Yup. Even I can make it taste good," she said. Then she rolled her head forward and moaned as I tried to get some knots out of her shoulders. I had to stop, unfortunately, because those noises weren't helping my condition. Leaning forward to give her a peck on the cheek, I told her I was going to go shower, but she told me, "Not yet." I arched a brow in confusion, and she wrapped her arms around me and started to kiss me like she had done yesterday, feverously yet gentle. I could feel my heartbeat in my pants.

I put my hands on her hips and broke away from the kiss reluctantly. She backed into the counter, and using her hands to help her, propped herself up to sit there. With her legs, she pulled me closer to her, and our pelvises met, and I had to back away. "Katniss, I—"

"But let's kiss," she said, holding onto the color of my shirt and trying to pull me back, even wrapping her legs around my waist to hoist me back to her. "I really shouldn't—" I began, but then she felt it. I knew it from the look in her eyes, suddenly demure as she looked up at me from under long lashes. I took the opportunity to take a step back. Because I was wearing khaki pants, I hadn't taken my apron off, so I didn't think anything was visibly obvious, but she had felt it.

I gulped. "Sorry, I should go shower now," I told her as I made to go up the stairs, but she yelled out, "Peeta, wait!" I stopped and turned around. This was torture. She slid herself off of the counter. "What's wrong?" she asked.

What's wrong? Hadn't she just felt what was wrong? I couldn't formulate a sentence as I sputtered and waved my arms about. She smiled at me. Was she mocking me? Why was she smiling? Couldn't she tell that I had a…that I was…

She untied the back of my apron, and without breaking eye contact, she lifted it off of me from behind my neck. The eroticism of that simple act made me harder, and I shamefully looked down because I knew she'd now see it fully. She didn't hide the fact that she staring, probably thinking how funny my pants looked right now with a seven-inch projection poking out.

"Hey, look at me," she whispered. "…Isn't that…isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

I couldn't think. "I mean…what?" What was she trying to say? I tried to turn around again, but she held my arm.

Chuckling, she laughed, "So what, Peeta? I felt it yesterday, too, you know," she said.

"Oh, right…" I had forgotten. But still, that was different than just walking into the house with a throbbing dick because I was a ball of hormones. Which was more embarrassing than I had intended.

"I liked it," she added. Well, then…that changed things.


	9. Chapter 9

I had been thinking about Peeta all day like a lovesick school-girl. I couldn't help it. It was almost like having a boyfriend, just without the label. I remembered having good dreams again last night while sleeping next to him. We had been through hell, and now we were happy in each other's presence. Even after my little spat with my mom, I was still happy. I wondered again if this was love. I obviously knew that Peeta and I cared about each other, but it was scary to feel this way. I'd always been one to enjoy time for myself, and I still did, but I found myself missing him when he wasn't around. It would have been nice if I had gotten to really see him this morning before he left. That just made me miss him worse.

After getting everything from Mom's house, I took my bow and arrow and went hunting for a little bit. I hadn't realized how much I had missed it until I was out there in my element again. I ended up getting two rabbits and two squirrels and reveling in the normality of taking them down to the Hob to trade. I was going to offer Sae the animals I'd shot to see if maybe she would give me a chicken. It was a long-shot because chickens were valuable, but I would take my chances.

There was a skip in my step on the way to the warehouse. My ankle was healing nicely, though it hadn't gotten back to normal just yet. Whatever I had done, I had really messed it up. I wouldn't ever drink again. At least not for a very, very long time.

"Hey, hey," Sae greeted me as I walked in front of her stand. "Whatcha got for me?"

"So…" I said, swinging the carcasses off of my back and onto the table between us, "I have all of this, but I was wondering if you could help me out. If I bring in the same amount of meat every day this week, can you give me a chicken?" I thought the offer was pretty good, but I was still testing my luck.

The look on Sae's face was promising, however. She looked as if she was weighing the deal in her head. Give up a chicken that could constantly give her eggs or have a bunch of meat to freeze and make soup with for weeks? "So, why don't you bring me meat every day this week and then I'll give you the hen Friday," she said, agreeing.

"I need it today," I responded. I had my heart set on using it for dinner.

"And I need her eggs," she countered.

"Okay, I'll bring in the same amount of meat for two weeks, then." I didn't really need to hunt for survival anymore; it was more out of hobby, so why not? "I won't cheat you out of the deal, I promise. You know me." I pleaded with her. I really wanted to make dinner with it tonight to prove to Peeta that I could cook, too. And I was really craving chicken. When had I ever had the chance to make this kind of a deal before? Chicken was a commodity we could never afford.

"Fine, but I get to pick the chicken. I'll be back," she told me as she hobbled out of the door and out of my sight, heading in the direction of the nearby coop. Yes! She would probably give me a scrawny chicken, but I didn't care because it'd be enough food for just me and Peeta. It was early enough that I could even prepare everything and have it ready to eat tonight. I became slightly giddy inside, feeling strangely proud that I'd be cooking dinner for the two of us tonight.

While she was gone, I looked around the place. I got some stares from men probably engaging in shady business deals, and I looked away. I didn't know what to think about this place anymore. I obviously would never stop coming here during the day, but what if I were a fly on the wall and just stayed into the night, I wondered…Would I still see the same men after dark giving money to women for unspeakable services? I couldn't imagine having to make a living that way.

Greasy Sae came back a few minutes later with a small cage with a white leghorn inside flapping its wings. I wanted to roll my eyes because of _course_ she'd give me the smallest breed she had. But chicken was chicken, and I gladly took the cage and thanked her.

Earlier today I had walked through town carrying a wagon of random belongings, and now I was carrying a cage with a chicken in it. I even smiled as I walked, unable to hide my happiness. It was so weird feeling like this. I felt so strange feeling so friendly, to say "good afternoon" to people as I walked by and really mean it…

I got home and immediately went to work. I knew what I had to do, and it wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, but I'd done it so many times that I'd become disconnected with what I was really doing. I found a metal bar behind Haymitch's place and placed it by the cage as I carefully opened the latch.

Holding chickens stressed me out. They always tried to escape. I got the firmest grip on it that I could, but its wings still flapped and made me turn my head. No matter how many times I'd done this, it always felt like the chicken would fly away or come attack my face. Of course it didn't though, and I put it on the ground, stationing its head on top of the bar. With precision, I lifted the bar and decapitated it as it ran around headless for minutes longer than it should. Finally, it collapsed on the ground, and I put Haymitch's metal pole back in his backyard. I moved the cage to the back porch and threw the chicken head as far into the woods as I could manage so the animals wouldn't come near the house tonight to get it.

I looked around. I didn't know where to finish the next part at. There's this one house in the Seam that is really just a big room, and women sometimes go there to prepare food. It's nice because you don't have to worry about messing up the floors or counters because the room has a nice long table in the middle and wood floors. That's about all it was, but it was very practical because the blood could just be rinsed away (kind of) and then we could use all the feathers for stuffing pillows. Now I had nowhere to cleanly pluck this thing. If I did it out here, all the feathers would blow away, and that would be annoying.

Supposing I didn't really think this through, I went inside Peeta's house and got a big trash bag. Opening it really wide, I placed the headless chicken on it and began ripping out its feathers and stuffing them at the bottom of the bag as best as I could. When I was done, I tied a knot in the bag and carried that inside with one hand, my other hand holding the chicken by its leg. I stuck it in a giant pot full of water to begin boiling and went upstairs to shower.

My body was dirty. I looked in the mirror after all my clothes were off. I was a sweaty, bloody, feathery mess. I undid my braid and stepped into the shower, smiling while I washed myself because thoughts of last night filled my head. I even made up a song to sing while I scrubbed the day away. I just could _not_ stop thinking about Peeta. I was really looking forward to tonight in bed…maybe he wouldn't be so tired from work that he would want to do what we did yesterday again. My stomach muscles involuntarily contracted as I began to get flustered at reliving that moment.

I stepped out of the shower and looked at the time. It was about half past five. Peeta should be coming home soon. His long days killed me. I don't know how he did it, but he loved it, and that's all that mattered.

I brushed through my tangled hair and dried off my body then stepped over to his dresser. I felt mischievous…Opening it to pick out one of his shirts to wear, I rummaged through lots of old shirts until I found a good one. It was an extra large gray one and I pulled it over my head then looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't wearing a bra, so my nipples kind of showed, and the shirt went down to just above my knees. Literally, it was huge. I didn't know why he needed something this big, but I was going to wear it. Just the shirt, no pants. I smirked at myself in the mirror.

My small pile of clothes in the corner was easy to go through, and I didn't necessarily have the best collection of underwear, but I picked out black satiny ones that were plain but not childish. Then I got to cooking. I was going to make chicken and dumplings, one of my all-time favorite foods. When I was younger, Mom used to make it for me on my birthday because it was such a special type of dish. Any meat was technically special, but… I can't remember the last time I'd had it, but for some reason I was craving it, and I became immersed in preparing this dish.

I added spices to the pot, checked the temperature of the bird, and made dumplings from scratch. Peeta's cabinets literally were full of flour; it made me laugh. But the dumplings were my favorite part, so it was great. We'd have lots of them. "Dumplings and chicken," I chuckled out to myself. I looked at the time again: quarter past six. Ughh.

I de-boned the chicken and shredded all of the meat with my hands after it was cooked throughout. I put it back in the stock then began to add the dumplings. I was getting slightly apprehensive because this part only took about ten or fifteen minutes, and I wanted it to be ready for when he got home so we could eat. I also kind of knew what I was doing—hopefully—to him by wearing this. Maybe we'd have a fun dinner and then run upstairs. The possibilities were making me a little aroused and happy. So happy that I began to make up another song about cooking. I pushed the dumplings further into the pot to cook, and then I heard him at the door. My heart jumped up in my throat. I thought about what I was wearing…maybe it wasn't such a good idea… I know he said he'd not think of me differently, but what had I gotten myself into by wearing this? Too late now to worry about what I looked like because I could sense him approaching me as I feigned not noticing, still singing and stirring.

He assessed the pot and seemed happy to see it was chicken and dumplings. I felt strangely girly for being so happy to make dinner, but those feelings of girlishness vanished as he began to massage my shoulders. Wow. All of my muscles were tense from hunting and exerting myself today. The front of his body was against the back of mine while his fingers rubbed all of my sore spots.

My eyes had inadvertently closed but I opened them wide when I felt him pressed up against my back. Not him, but _it_. I guess my lack of pants had had the effect I desired, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. His hands felt so wonderful, and all of the tingly feelings from the shower were magnified as I felt his breath on my neck and smelled him as his face got closer to mine. My mouth opened, and I wanted to kiss him. Goosebumps covered my arms and a chill ran up my spine. His hands left my shoulders and he kissed my cheek, but I wanted more. Turning around, I was prepared to say something but didn't exactly know what. I couldn't put together any words because I was taken away by his appearance. He was in a flour-covered apron and wearing a simple blue shirt and khakis underneath, the skin on his arms and cheeks littered with random bits of flour. His hair was beautifully ruffled, and his eyes shone bright against the blue of his shirt. I was speechless.

My silence gave him room to tell me he wanted to shower from his long day at work before we ate dinner.

But…but I didn't want him to go. He obviously didn't have to shower _right now_, did he? I mean…I was aroused, and he seemed to be aroused, too, and we were just sharing a moment…Maybe I just imagined feeling that on my back. Maybe that wasn't what it was at all.

I objected, "Not yet." Please, not yet. I didn't know how to tell him that I couldn't deal with it if he just stopped and went away, even for a quick shower. I wanted—no, I needed—him to kiss me, so I pulled him back to my body as I moved to sit on the counter beside the stove. Then we began to truly kiss, and his lips made me lose all concept of space or time. I just wanted more, I just wanted him. He made everything better. Didn't he want it, too? He wasn't fully engaged in the kiss; I could feel his restraint. Out of instinct, I wrapped my legs around him to feel more of him against me, but he almost immediately backed away and protested continuing. _Why_?

I took on a different personality as I used my legs to pull him back to me to continue. He was not going to tell me no, not when I needed his mouth so badly. When had I become so horny?

Then I knew what I had felt earlier was what I thought it was. It had to be. Because I was sitting on the counter, our heights were more level, and if we scrunched our bodies in the right way, our pelvises deliciously matched…and I had felt him, harder than I thought was even possible, against my center. I wasn't wearing pants, so he was _right there_. It was amazing. Had I really just done that to him? I saw yesterday what he normally looked like…and now it felt huge…and maybe intimidating?

I looked up at his face, questioning him with my eyes and not sure really what to do. He looked like he was suffering some battle inside his head, but I didn't understand why. It was just me…and clearly he was attracted to me. Why did he keep backing away? Should I let him that nothing had changed since yesterday, that I wanted this kind of stuff too? Did he just need reassurance?

He began to swiftly walk towards the stairs, still rambling about that shower. I followed him to tell him to stop. I needed to know what his behavior was about. Was he embarrassed or something? Just yesterday he had rubbed himself to completion against my thigh. "What's wrong?" I asked him, confused by his erratic conduct. My simple question stumped him; it was cute how flustered he was getting because we both knew what I was referring to. I again became bold and took off his apron so we could address what he was, for some reason, trying to hide.

There was no hiding it now, not after his apron was off, because the bulge in his pants was enormous. I knew my eyes enlarged at the sight, but I tried to act normal. I didn't want to give him reason to keep thinking I was afraid or embarrassed or whatever it was he thought. I could do this.

He didn't want to look at me, though. I made him meet my eyes, and in an uncommon moment of _me_ soothing _him_, I let him know that it was okay…that it was supposed to be a good thing, right? He was acting so _funny_ when he shouldn't be embarrassed at all. I wondered if this was how I appeared when I was embarrassed of my body. Reminding him that I even felt him yesterday seemed to spark something in his mind, but his face still wore a mask of fright. His features were covered in concerned wrinkles that finally smoothed into astonishment and bliss when I told him I liked what I had felt.

"Oh, really?" he said, seeming to act a little playful now. I matched his mood and grinned at him, nodding. "So it doesn't freak you out when you feel it then?" he asked, slowly walking me back to the counter, fully aware I could feel him against my stomach the whole time.

"Why would it?" I asked him. "It means you like what you see, right?"

"Oh, yeah…I certainly do," he said in a low voice, looking me up and down as we reached the edge of the counter. "Nice shirt, by the way." He ran a hand through his hair. "But I don't want to assume anything…or make you feel like I expect you to do something or whatever.."

"I know you don't. But just know that _I_ want to," I whispered, tilting my head up, wanting him to kiss me again. Want to _what_, exactly? I didn't know exactly. I put my hands over the seat of his pants and squeezed his ass. Something overcame me, and I knew that what I wanted was simple: more of Peeta.

"Katniss!" he exclaimed, shocked at how forward I was being compared to usual. At my action, however, his demeanor seemed to change. He placed his hands on my hips and hoisted me back on the counter.

I started to move my arms and legs to wrap around his body again, but before he would let me, he stepped aside to turn off the stove and move the pot to the side. I thought of my irresponsibility for a second—I would've just let it boil over or burn because I had been so preoccupied, and that would've sucked. I was too far gone to care.

"Mmm," he happily mumbled against my lips as they moved to meet mine that had curved upwards in a smile. I tried not to smile, but after he stepped closer to me and allowed me to wrap my limbs around him again, I couldn't help it. Everything felt so good.

Soon the playful mood changed as he finally gave me what I wanted and kissed me. The simple brush of his lips rendered my mind blank again, and my hands gripping his neck pulled him harder to me to get more of his mouth. He, as usual, wanted to take everything slowly and held back. It was torture to me in the most exquisite way. Cradling my head in his hands, he kissed me slowly, opening his mouth and tormenting me with just the tip of his tongue. I whimpered shamelessly as I tried to feel more of his mouth, but to no avail. He was being gentle and sweet.

I couldn't deny that it wasn't having an effect on me, though. I felt pleasurable sensations on every pore of my skin, and electricity was flowing through me and shooting down between my legs, leaving heat and humidity as a result. I dropped my hands from his neck and moved them to his lower back, trying to push him closer _still_, trying to get something more than what he was offering, but he would only just barely let his erection touch me. His hands left my face to run his fingertips along my arms, and I shivered.

His breathing was strenuous already, and he broke the kiss much too soon to envelop me in a hug. I groaned in frustration because I didn't want him to stop, but I realized that I probably had the same effect on him that he had on me. He was probably restraining himself because of the intensity. I thought I'd make him suffer a bit for not giving me all that he had. I turned my head a bit and peppered tiny kisses along the underside of his jaw. I moved to kiss and suck on his neck, trying to do the same thing that he did to me because it always felt amazing. Then I moved up to his ear, and in a moment of daring, slightly touched his earlobe with my tongue. He stiffened.

"Katniss," he whispered, looking at me with irises darker than I'd ever seen his bright, blue eyes get. "What's gotten into you today?"

I shrugged innocently. "Just been thinking about you a lot," I whispered into his ear. We only whispered when we were doing personal things, and it only served to make everything more intimate.

He let out a deep breath slowly and asked, "What kinds of things about me?"

"I've been trying to show you, but you don't seem to let me," I told him playfully again. I wanted the somber mood back—I wanted to get lost in his smell and touch and taste again. And thankfully, this time he succumbed to the lusty feelings, too. Before his lips met mine for the second time, he said softly, "Tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

I was looking at his lips, waiting for their descent, not realizing I was leaning forward minutely myself. "Okay?" he repeated. I nodded, and he finally kissed me in earnest.

His lips just barely covered mine in a possessive display of magnetism. I loved how smooth they were and how hot and velvety his tongue was as it massaged mine. He gripped my hips tightly and finally pushed his hardness into me where my legs were spread open. Finally. I moaned but refused to leave his mouth as we continued to slide our lips and tongues against one another's. He tasted so marvelous and sweet.

I was sure this all looked very awkward: me on the counter hunched over so as not to bump into the cabinets behind my head, and Peeta holding and tilting my hips up so he could actually let me feel him entirely this time. Actually, it wasn't awkward at all, it was _sexy_. Peeta was _so _sexy without even realizing it. His hand slowly moved under the large shirt I was wearing to feel my upper leg. Tickling me there but still moving his lips against mine, he slowly crept it upwards past my stomach. It was then he broke the kiss to look at me, but keeping his lips to mine, asked if it was okay.

I started to nod and he almost reached my breast, but I whispered, "Wait." He froze and even backed away. The loss of contact sucked. "I was just going to say…" I was starting to get uncomfortable sitting on the counter. "Could we maybe go someplace else?" I suggested. Maybe like your room?

He almost looked shy when he asked, "Wanna sit on the couch?"

Without answering, I walked to the couch and, opposed to sitting, spread my body out on the cushions so he'd have to lie atop me. That would definitely be suggestive, but I still wanted the connection we had on the counter. I wanted that feeling of our bodies meeting and matching up, getting tangled in each other.

He followed me into the living room and saw my position on the couch. He stared at me and didn't hide that he was staring at me, and the bulge I saw earlier seemed even larger if possible as it stuck out noticeably.

"Does that hurt at all?" I asked curiously, referring to the tent in his pants.

He gulped. "Uh, not really. It's just kind of uncomfortable sometimes," he said. He still hadn't moved, and I began to feel slightly vulnerable laying there without his body covering mine, with his eyes just drinking me in. I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands, so I pulled down the material of the shirt I was wearing to cover my legs a bit more. He came back to reality and stepped closer to me. He crouched over the couch and resumed kissing me, but that's not what I had in mind. I pulled his shirt in a suggestive way so he would come up on the couch with me.

Again, his face looked anguished and I wished he would stop. "Katniss…If we don't stop I'll…" he didn't know how to phrase what he was saying. "Are you sure?"

"Peeta," I sighed exasperatedly, "yes! I'm absolutely, positively su—" He quieted me with the firmest kiss he had given me yet. _Yes_. This is what I wanted. I wanted him to match my passion. He fumbled a bit as he tried to lift himself up to get comfortable on top of me on the couch, but as soon as he could, he put his lips back to mine and we began to enthusiastically make out. His weight was finally covering me, and I moved my legs to either side of his hips to wrap them around his calves. His shoes were still on, and I managed to take them off with my feet while my hands ran up and down his back.

My hands began to just move of their own accord as they unbuttoned his shirt to touch his chest. He shimmied out of it and grunted as I lifted my hips to feel his erection better. Oh, my _God_. It was so impossibly hard and if I moved just right, it made me feel the same way—if not better—that Peeta's fingers had. Fingers that were now inching up my shirt again like they just had moments ago. His lips left my mouth to explore my neck, and I moaned at the sensations this all was giving me. Peeta was just barely pushing into me while I was pushing up into him with all I had, my stomach muscles clenching with my efforts. I tried to stop all the fleeting thoughts that were entering my head, that this was wrong or immoral or anything else, and it was easy to do once his mouth found my pulse point on my neck and sucked hard.

Peeta worshipping me with his mouth and moving against my panties and imperceptibly touching my stomach had me lost in a puddle of desire and ache. He began to groan himself as I gripped and pulled at his hair, and that just resulted in me gyrating against him harder. _We were having sex_, I thought. _We were having sex with our clothes on._ It was slightly irritating my skin, but it was also strangely bringing me relief of the almost painful feelings of _need_ I was experiencing. His hand finally reached its destination under my breast, and my mouth fell open when his fingers flicked over my nipple. I'd never ever known that I could feel something like that from my breast. The sensation was hard to explain, like it was uncomfortable but pleasurable, like it was foreign but I still wanted more.

Suddenly I could tell the end was in sight—I knew what to expect now, and the feeling was building strong within me. I didn't know the words to let Peeta know, but I wanted him to see what he was doing to me. "Peeta," said my raspy voice into his ear, wanting his lips on mine again and not my neck. "_God_, baby," he growled, moving against me faster now, holding my face in his hands and resting his forearms on my shoulders. He was sweaty and hot and heavy above me, and I loved it. We ground our hips together with everything we had.

We looked at each other almost cross-eyed as our bodies moved rhythmically. His eyes were droopy and dark—there was no more blue; only his pupil could be seen as his eyes looked into my soul, making us not two but one. I was experiencing waves of sensations. My mind began to go delightfully blank.

I arched my back off the couch and into Peeta's chest as the tingling feelings turned into intoxicating, rolling waves of pleasure. Peeta pressed his lips roughly against mine, not to kiss, just there. "Katniss, baby, oh, God," he groaned, but I couldn't concentrate on anything because each of our thrusts sent new rushes of bliss, and it just kept coming, again and again. The sensations started where we were pressed together and then traveled to every nerve in my body, to my fingertips and hair and toes.

I lost all control sometime after that. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't formulate any words. I couldn't even cry out Peeta's name. Sounds that I didn't comprehend emerged and I vaguely head similar sounds coming from Peeta's lips breathing and moving against mine. One of his hands moved to my ass and clutched me there. The smoothness of his hand. The feeling of his breath. The smell of him. The sounds he was making. The sounds I was making. The grinding. The pulsing. The coil that was wound tight inside me released. A harsh scream came out of my throat, and I exploded. I clenched and released my muscles again and again while I slowly began to move less and less frantically.

Eventually I opened my eyes that I hadn't realized I had squeezed shut and looked at Peeta. He was staring down at me, his chest rising and falling in exertion and his chest and hair wet with sweat. My breath eventually slowed as calming feelings of bliss flowed over me.

All of the hardness from before was gone—now I just felt a lot of sticky wetness between our legs. My mind was cloudy, and Peeta and I didn't speak for a long time. I couldn't speak. I was in shock at what our bodies had just done to each other. Peeta leaned forward and briefly kissed me tenderly before raising his body up awkwardly from my limp one. I had melted into the couch, but I had to get up, too. As I rose, I saw the front of Peeta's pants significantly darker than the rest. He sat on the left side of the couch and I sat up and folded my legs on the right side.

As he so often did, he ran his fingers through his hair. "So I should really probably take that shower now," he laughed.

I shyly smiled. After we did things like this, I noticed I have been getting very shy. But I was growing to really enjoy these moments with Peeta, however insecure I sometimes felt. He looked at me with ruddy cheeks and said, "That was absolutely amazing, babe. I'm… still recovering."

I had to agree. I knew he needed to hear it out loud, but really, was I _not _obvious about how much I'd enjoyed myself? "I am, too. I…Wow. That was really…intense," I said lamely. It felt great, but now I was achy and a little sore as a result. I wondered if I had hurt Peeta, suddenly remembering how strongly we had just been rubbing against each other…Surely that didn't feel good…? I didn't ask him, though. I was tired of asking—and I was sure he was tired of hearing—all of these doubtful questions. He had just said it was amazing, so I believed him.

Getting up from the couch, I walked to the stairs. "I need to change my underwear," I told him. "You shower. I'll reheat the dumplings, and then we'll eat dinner."

He met me at the bottom of the steps and pecked my lips. "You're incomparable," he said simply and smiled. He playfully slapped my butt as I walked ahead of him to his room. I happily sighed as he closed the bathroom door and I went through my pile of clothes for some new panties. Mine were all damp.

I was setting the table when Peeta came downstairs wearing navy blue sweatpants and no shirt. His hair was damp, and he smelled manly and spicy and clean. He caught me staring at his shirtless body and smirked. "Now we kind of match," he teased. I looked down and grinned. I still hadn't put any pants on. I didn't feel like it, and if it meant that Peeta would eat dinner without wearing a shirt, then I'd do it every night.

We sat down and dug in, neither of us speaking for a long time because we were enjoying the food so much. I _really_ loved chicken and dumplings. And it was the easiest thing in the world to make, and it went far. We could have leftovers for days.

Peeta seemed to like them, too, which made me internally proud. I felt like he had so much to offer: he could cook, he was neat, he was talented artistically, he was sensitive, and on and on and on. And me? I shot animals with arrows and not much else. So cooking dinner for him and having him make noises of approval while chowing down made me really happy.

Peeta was in the middle of chewing when he spoke. "So, I've just realized—" he paused to swallow before continuing, "We've never been on a date or anything." He grabbed his glass of milk and drank about half of it before grinning sheepishly at me staring at him. "…It's really good," he muttered in apology of his wolfish ravaging of the food. I just took it as a compliment and smiled at him.

So…a date. I'd never been on a date before. I didn't know if I wanted to. I didn't really know what people did on dates or how I was supposed to act, and I didn't have anything nice to wear. The word pressured me just thinking about it. When I didn't immediately respond, Peeta laughed and said, "Relax. You should see your face right now." He chewed another spoonful of the dumplings while grinning out of the side of his mouth. "Don't let the word scare you. It doesn't have to be fancy or anything. We could even just walk around the park or something."

I looked at his leg and made an excuse. "You're on your feet all day already, though."

He shrugged. "It's not bad, really. I've gotten used to it now. Barely feel anything anymore." He smiled while taking his last bite. I had just finished and pushed my plate away from me but still looked at Peeta. I had a feeling he was lying to me about his leg to make me feel better. I hoped he was being truthful, though, because I saw his leg the other day and it looked like it hurt like hell.

"You all done?" he asked, referring to my plate. I nodded. He went back to the topic: "I get it if you don't want to. I was just suggesting," he said and stood up to clear off the table.

I stayed seated and sighed. "It's not that."

He put all the dishes in the dishwasher and started to wipe off the counters and tidy up. "What's the matter, then?"

I felt stupid for having so many excuses, but I didn't want to tell them to him because he'd surely think I was stupid, too. What was I supposed to tell him? "Oh, I have nothing to wear, and I don't even own makeup, and I don't know how to properly act in a public place" probably wouldn't be tactful. I took a breath to steady myself and looked at him to say, "Nothing. I'm being dumb. I'd like to do something like that." I smiled at him, and he looked pleased as he smiled back. We had just shared _the_ most intimate moment of our lives, so of course I could step out of my comfort zone and go out on a date with him.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "But really, if you don't want to, it's fine either way. I just wanted to show you a good time, you know? Totally casual."

"No, really. Let's do it. When?"

"Oh!" he remembered something. "Dad asked me today if I could work the weekends now because Will's about to move in with his girlfriend and he's not working anymore. So he's basically scheduled me from Saturday to Wednesday." He went to the trash can to remove the full bag and continued, "My schedule'll probably be like that for a while. Does Thursday or Friday sound good?"

"Yep. I never have plans, you know that," I said. He put another trash liner in the trashcan and retorted, "Oh, not true. But glad you can pencil me in," he winked.

He sat back at the table beside me. "So…I also wanted to know if you wanted to maybe come with me to look at vehicles on one of those days."

"You're getting a car?"

"Maybe. Maybe a truck," he joked. I scrunched my nose. "Maybe a minivan!" I laughed out loud that time.

"Cool," I smiled at him.

"Yep. I've been saving up a long time. And emptying the trash just now reminded me that I have to take that bag and, like, four others to the dump soon. I really need something to haul them there…unless you wanna drag them to the dump with me?" He wagged his eyebrows. I smirked. The dump was very close to the Seam. That walk would've been brutal. I'd only been staying in the village for a few days, and I'd already made that walk too many times than I wanted to. I hated that walk. Lugging bags of trash would've made the walk way worse.

"We should just get a burn barrel," I suggested. "We can compost the organic stuff and burn or recycle the rest."

He smiled largely. "Good thinkin', Everdeen," he said. "So, what's a burn barrel?"

Oh, Peeta. "What's it sound like?" I picked, but answered right away, "We used to just use a steel drum. You could put it on concrete slabs or just sit it in the grass," I explained. "Where you'll get a steel drum from, I don't know."

He looked thoughtful. "I'll figure it out. That's a really good idea," he said. _Not really_, I thought. Just a part of regular Seam life. Peeta didn't think of basic little things like that, but I couldn't hold it against him. It just wasn't part of his upbringing. He continued, "It'd be nice to have something to drive into town with, though. I can't wait." I smiled at him.

He yawned and stretched his arms way above his head. "Sucks it's almost bed-time for me," he said, his speech garbled since he was in the middle of yawning yet again.

"Why'd you work…what was it, like twelve hours?" I asked. "That's ridiculous." He didn't ask for my opinion, but that was crazy! I didn't know his family that well, but I really didn't like how much they used him. And the sad thing was that he didn't even seem to mind.

"Oh, normally I'd be off by four or so. Mondays are just difficult to catch stuff up."

"So…six to four is your normal day?" I clarified.

"Yep. Not too bad," he said. That seemed like a pretty long day to me, but I didn't say anything.

"Let's go to bed, then," I proposed.

"Let's," he agreed. Hand-in-hand, we went upstairs.

"I forgot my manners. Dinner was delicious," he told me as I wrapped my arm around his stomach.

"Thanks, Peeta," I said as I, myself, yawned.

Snuggling into each other's warmth, we shared another peaceful night of sleep.

**Another big thanks to those who have reviewed this. I appreciate it. This story is going to end up being really long, just so you know. I promise it will lead somewhere eventually. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**This flu/cold virus that's going around is ****_so_**** horrible. Hopefully nobody here has had it, but I have been in bed for about a week straight, so my apologies for a late/somewhat boring chapter.**

**Peeta's POV**

She filled my mind again at work on Tuesday. I'd grown accustomed to it, and no matter what I was doing, she was in the back of my mind. It was comforting. I didn't have to worry about anything anymore, and the feeling was great.

Last night was unbelievable. I had gone home expecting to ungraciously jerk myself off in the shower, but I hadn't realized that these feelings might be something that Katniss was experiencing, too. I forgot that she didn't really know how to _relieve_ the feelings if she had the urge. I was thrilled that Katniss was so brave, unlike me, and actually spoke up about what she wanted and voiced her needs. Ever the unconfident one, I asked her "are you sure?" about a dozen times, but I finally realized that she _was_ sure, and I amazed even myself at how self-assured I became. The night had ended up totally implausible, but I pinched myself in the shower afterwards and it confirmed that, yes, it was real. My dick kind of hurt, but I would do what we did again in a heartbeat. Whenever she wanted to do it again. I really liked Katniss when she asked for what she wanted. It was hot.

Even though my day turned out to be as shitty as they come, it didn't bother me too much because I knew I'd be returning home to her after it all.

"Glad to see you're finally back," my mom greeted me once she woke up and came downstairs at about ten. I didn't respond as I kept my focus on the cupcakes I was icing. Technically, I had money now. I didn't even _have_ to keep working here, but I wanted to. Dad didn't have a lot of employees, and it was more of a family-operated business. Plus I sincerely liked it, and one day, I really wanted to take over the bakery. Mother really didn't have anything to complain about just because I got the weekend off.

"So what's this your brothers are telling me about you going through their stuff?" she asked when she didn't get a rise out of me the first time.

I rolled my eyes. "I was in _my_ own room looking for old sketchbooks and stuff. I found them under the bed," I answered.

"Go in there during your lunch break and clean up the mess you made, then," she told me.

"But that wouldn't make any sense. Will's supposed to be here today to move out the rest of his stuff anyway," I complained. She gave me a look, but luckily didn't press the issue any more. She silently walked back upstairs where she would probably lie on the couch and watch television all day. Her moods were so unpredictable…I probably would have been on the receiving end of a thrown object any other day, but I guess I was fortunate this time.

Ryan and Will entered the back room together a little after the encounter with Mother. Dad must've still been outside helping the customers. My brother, Will, being the oldest, was always kind of a jerk and picked on me the most, but sometimes it was in an "older-brotherly" way. Normally, however, it was just him being a dick. I would be lying if I said I would necessarily miss him not living here anymore. I'd have to put up with him a lot less.

"So," he said, leaning on the counter where I was still frosting cupcakes, "how are things in Lover's Lane?" He was chewing gum, and it made him look like a complete asshole as he smirked at me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him tentatively. I didn't want to have this conversation. He was just going to embarrass me.

"You're shackin' up with that Seam girl, right?" he jeered.

"Her name is Katniss. And I wouldn't really call it that," I answered simply. We weren't really living together, we just…stayed together. Basically every night.

"Oooh, what would you call it then? She just comes over for the _benefits_ of your company?" He was such a dick to tease me about something like that. Ryan started to laugh, but I knew for a fact that he was a virgin, too. I kept my mouth shut, though. If he was telling something different to Will just so he'd look cooler around him or something, then that was his insecurity that he'd have to deal with himself.

"Shut up, _William_," I said. "I don't even know how you manage to keep a girlfriend with how rude you are, let alone get her to agree to let you move in."

"Uh, probably because I know what the fuck to do," he said, a little annoyed at my attitude. This was when he decided to push my buttons so he could feel better about himself. "We saw you on TV, Peeta. You're such a pussy. If it was me or Ry in that cave with that chick, we'd've been all over—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I warned, looking up at his face and slamming the decorating bag on the counter. "Or I swear—"

Ryan heckled. "You'll what? Please, Peeta, you're such a girl. All we're saying is she's hot!" My breathing was quickly speeding up uncontrollably. I tried to ignore what they were saying, but my heart began to beat faster, and I wanted them to leave. Where was this coming from? I normally had a better hold of my emotions, and now I could feel myself losing control.

My anger towards Will, slightly forgotten, built up as my attention focused on Ryan's next words. "Katniss, was it? God, I almost wish my name _was_ drawn just so I'd get the chance to fuck around with her in the cave th—"

All I saw was the burst of red that entirely encompassed my vision as I pulled my right arm back and let it fly before he could finish speaking. Bringing up Katniss in that derogatory way finally pushed me over the edge. I had already carelessly brushed aside all the ways they'd screwed me over throughout my entire life, never fighting back once, but now was not one of those times. I might be able to deal with it when they were assholes to me, but once they mentioned Katniss, I wasn't putting up with it.

I'd never been in a fight in my life, let alone an all-out fist fight. Someone was always around to break it up or deescalate it before it even got to that point. The only witness now was Will, who stepped out of the way, amused, to give us more room to hit each other as he watched. Sticking up for myself felt strange, but I was really just defending Katniss. Even so, I used to have a much tighter hold on my emotions…

Fighting with Ryan was actually slightly exhilarating, and the punching motion was surprisingly _good_. I didn't realize the damage that could be done with these muscles and hands. It wiped that look off of Ryan's face immediately. The second my fist made contact with his cheek bone, his taunting face turned into one of disbelief and rage, and I loved it. The anger and adrenaline I felt was stronger than the pain I felt in my hand or on my face when Ryan punched me back. We met each other punch for punch, grunting and knocking our bodies into the stainless steel tables and sending rolling carts crashing into the walls. I almost wanted Will to come at me, too, so I could show him that I wasn't just making empty threats earlier when he spoke like that about Katniss.

Soon a metallic taste filled my mouth and I realized that Ryan had split my lip. It added fuel to the burning inferno inside of my chest, and I used my left hand to grip Ryan's shirt firmly while punching his nose again and again until I saw blood gushing from it. With a strength I didn't know I had, I pushed him into the wall, still gripping his shirt. Our breathing was erratic now as we stared at each other with hatred painted on our faces. Once it looked like he wouldn't hit me again, I let his shirt go. My lips were pursed in anger as I let out short, loud puffs of air through my nostrils. I wiped my lip with the back of my hand and saw blood. Turning it over, I saw my knuckles stained with Ryan's blood, as well. My brothers could deal with the mess (although they probably wouldn't) and the aftermath of that highly unusual outburst of mine. I was going to go compose myself and clean up.

"I'm going on my lunch break," I said while staring at Ryan. "You can take care of the customers."

When I walked to the stairs to enter the loft above, Ryan finally spoke back to me. "You can go fuck yourself, Peeta," he sharply but quietly said, holding his nose to quit the blood-flow. I turned my back on him and walked up the stairs. At the moment, I didn't really feel bad for what I had just done. I gave Will a fair warning that Ry should've known would apply to him, too. They've known for a fucking decade how long I've liked Katniss, and they should know by now not to cross that line. Actually, it's not polite to talk like that about any girls. My brothers were idiots.

In our upstairs loft, I saw Mom on the couch, as I expected. I didn't say anything as I went to the refrigerator to make a sandwich for lunch. Of course she noticed the state I was in, though. "What in the hell happened to you?" she asked me with a similar look of amusement on her face that Will had just worn. Our family was so backwards.

"Nothing," I responded, abandoning the bread I laid out on the counter to go to the bathroom and wash up. She didn't respond to me and turned her attention back to the show she was watching. She was probably happy that I was in pain, just not so happy that it didn't get to be her doing the hitting.

I looked in the mirror. My left eye and cheekbone were progressively becoming darker as they rapidly swelled. My lip was easy to fix up and stop bleeding, but it was torn right down the middle. It, too, was swollen, and it stuck out unattractively. It would be obvious to anyone who looked at me that I had been in a fight. I shrugged my shoulders and walked back into the kitchen.

I ate my lunch at the kitchen table by myself, just waiting for my mom to mention cleaning up my old room. I wasn't the one that ruined it in the first place, and yesterday afternoon I actually _did_ do a lot of cleaning. I just didn't push all the stuff back under the bed that I had pulled out. Will actually should've been up here packing the last of his belongings up. I didn't know where he was. Helping Ryan?

Mom didn't say anything throughout my entire lunch break, though. I looked over at her and saw that she was actually napping. I went downstairs again and cleaned up the mess that Ryan and I had made, then got back to work on the cupcakes. I had calmed down quite a bit since the fight. It was easy for me to rebound into a normal, or at least a happier, mood, having experience in doing that so many times before going to school or somewhere else public. I just put the bad stuff in a tiny compartment in the back of my head and forgot about it. After clearing my head of all the bad feelings from this morning, I knew I should probably find Ryan and apologize.

I took the finished cupcakes out to the shop area to sell, and I saw that Delly was sitting down eating a big pastry alone. I almost didn't want to talk to her because she'd surely see my horrible face, but I hadn't seen or talked to her since before the Games. Ryan was silently staring at me from behind the counter, and now Will was nowhere to be found. I was slightly happy to note that Ryan's face looked worse than mine, but I struggled with myself for thinking such an evil thought. I had seen too much brutality in my lifetime, and I was tired of it to be honest. I didn't want to turn into a person that got pleasure out of inflicting pain on others. It was wicked.

Delly saw me and greeted me first. "Peeta!" she grinned at me, then immediately frowned as she took in my visage. I smiled warmly back at her, reassuring her, "Before you ask, it's okay. I'm fine." I smiled wider and grimaced as a sharp tearing pain reminded me that my lip wasn't up for that. I faintly tasted blood again, but I just stuck my tongue out to wet my bottom lip. Delly stood up, and we hugged after I put my tray of cupcakes on a nearby table. I indistinctly noticed Ryan standing behind the counter watching.

"It's good to see you, Delly," I said.

"Yeah! You, too. It's real good to see you, too," she said. "I was hoping you'd be here today," she friendly added.

"Yeah, I'm almost always here. So how've you been? How's your summer going?" I asked her curiously.

"Things are the same, you know, nothing much has changed…" she said conversationally. "The summer's okay. Kind of boring, you know. But school literally just let out, so…" She made a face and smiled. Then she became a bit more serious and touched my arm before saying, "I'm so glad that you're okay. I'm so sorry about…everything that you went through."

I was sure that she probably didn't know what to say to someone in my position, but she meant well, so my lips tugged up in a small smile. "Thanks."

"So, are you going to come back to school this fall?"

That was something that I hadn't even really considered. I'd forgotten all about school. "Uh…probably not. There's the Victory Tour around Harvest, and I'm at the bakery all the time now, so..yeah, probably not." She looked disappointed, so I told her, "I'll still be around, though."

"Good! Glad to hear it. Well, I'm all done eating, so I'm going to head out..but listen, it was really great to see you. And..are you sure your face is okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine, Delly, thanks. Take care," I said in farewell.

"You too, Peeta! Bye!"

I watched her walk out of the door and looked at Ryan still standing behind the cash register not doing any work. I carefully went behind the counter to put the cupcakes behind the glass display, thinking of the right words that I could apologize with. I did feel bad for doing that to him even though I honestly thought that what he said warranted my reaction. How does a person put that in words? "Sorry, but you got what you deserved"?

He silently watched as I rearranged things in the counter to look better. More people buy things if they're displayed in a pretty way, believe it or not. It was all about merchandising. Ryan narrowed his eyes at me in scrutiny and asked, "So you've got one girl waiting for you at home while you get to flirt with others at work?"

That shocked me; he was usually only douchey in front of Will. First of all, Katniss wasn't just 'waiting for me at home.' She kept herself busy doing all types of stuff.

"I wasn't flirting," I responded. "People can just be friends with someone of the opposite sex, actually."

"Whatever. I'm going on my lunch now," he said and he walked through the swinging door to the back. So much for an apology.

Ryan and I had shared a room almost all of our lives, so I thought I knew him pretty well. Being the middle child, he didn't get that much attention, but he never got beat like I did, so he didn't have a huge reason to complain. I was just an easy target for mom. She wanted a girl and got me, I was the youngest and therefore the most submissive child, and I messed up a lot. Ryan, on the other hand, was insecure about a handful of other things. Will took up most of the attention from both our parents and girls at school, leaving Ryan often overlooked in all areas of his life.

Will was the athletic one and the one all the girls liked, and I was supposedly the "artistic" one, and that didn't leave much room for Ryan to shine. He was okay academically, but nothing great. He went through a phase where he got perfect marks, so I know that he had the potential to do it—he was smart. But after putting his grades on the refrigerator and not receiving any notice from Mom and Dad about them for weeks, he figured it didn't matter, and then he stopped trying. Ryan hated his job. He thought I was the one that got more attention from Dad when I did things, so he stopped putting an effort at work, too. He normally just stood behind the register and waited to assist customers that were buying things, but he never did anything else in the back or to help clean up. He just stood there for his entire shift.

So, I did understand where he was coming from. He was probably jealous that I had more friends than he had. But I was just a friendly guy. If he weren't so rude, maybe he wouldn't have to feel insecure about it. Even though I felt like I had Ryan's psychology pegged, I didn't say sorry for the rest of the day. When he came back from his break, I went into the back again and made a lot of new pastries and prepped a lot of things for the morning. It made time go by faster.

Dad visited me in the back after a while. He had been tied up with a lot of orders for most of the day, so I hadn't gotten to really see him. He truly was a people-person. He loved what he did, and it made me happy. That would be me one day.

He stood on the opposite side of the table I was working at and fiddled about with some things. "What happened between you and your brother today, son?" he asked gently. I knew I could tell him the truth because he wasn't like anyone else in the family—he wouldn't make fun of me for it, and he wouldn't beat me for it.

"We got in a fight because he said rude things about Katniss," I answered. Dad's eyebrows rose. I hadn't exactly confided in Dad about my love for Katniss these past few years, but I hadn't been secretive of them, either. I had nothing to be ashamed of, but Dad never really asked much, so I wasn't sure how much he actually knew. He didn't say anything for the longest time, and it began to feel awkward. I continued rolling dough while he stood at the other side of the table, seemingly pondering something.

A while later he finally asked, "Do you feel that you've changed any since the Hunger Games, Peeta?"

I stopped my movements momentarily so I could think. I wasn't sure. Did I feel like that? Had I changed? "I don't know, Dad. I guess," I answered, not wanting to talk about it. The Hunger Games would change anybody. Wasn't this obvious to people watching on television just how much we were subjected to? Seeing what I saw there, experiencing what I did there, forced to do horrible things like I was…it would affect anybody.

"I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me if you're going through a rough time," he said.

"I'm fine, really, but thanks, Dad," I replied. He walked over to me and clapped me on the shoulder.

"We all just want you to be happy," he said. _Maybe _you_ do_, I thought, but as for everyone else? I had a feeling they could care less. I made a noise in the back of my throat, and our conversation was finished as Dad left the room. What was that all about?

Everyone must think I'd gone crazy. They must've been talking about it in front of Dad for him to feel the need to come to me to talk about it. I guess the fact that I was starting to stand up for myself was beginning to have an effect on the family. I wasn't just sitting back and letting events happen anymore; I was actively contributing to events, and nobody was used to it. They just thought I was out of my mind because of the Hunger Games. Maybe I was. Maybe I was a horrible person for relishing in the glory of giving Ryan a black eye and a bloody nose. I knew I'd have to apologize later this week, but that could wait. It was four o'clock, and I exited the bakery, leaving all of that drama behind me.

Katniss wasn't home when I got there, so I changed clothes, cleaned up my drawing room, then relaxed on the couch after putting more ointment on my leg. Each night I had slabbed cream on it, and it did seem to look a little better, but I couldn't tell if that was just my imagination. The fight with Ryan today had certainly agitated it a bit, but I'd survive.

She walked through the door about an hour later looking frazzled but beautiful. "Hey," she said, closing the front door behind her and walking over to sit on the arm of the couch after depositing her bow and quiver by the door. I moved my legs out of the way so she could sit down.

"Oh, my God, Peeta, what happened?" she said, looking at my face. I had almost forgotten how I looked. She reached out to touch the welt on my cheek but I grabbed her hand with mine and kissed it. "I'm fine," I said. "It looks a lot worse than it is."

She walked briskly to the freezer and returned with a bag of frozen peas. As she delicately placed it below my eye, she asked again, "Babe, what happened?" I didn't answer right away because she called me 'babe.' I was delighted, and I smiled in a daze. She wasn't one to show affection like that to just anyone. I liked it.

"My brother and I got in a little fight today," I answered.

"Which one?" she asked in concern.

"Ryan," I answered curtly. The next question would be "why?" and I didn't particularly want to answer that.

She didn't say anything for a second as she focused on gingerly patting my eye and cheek bone. "Who started it?"

I guess she didn't want to pry by asking me why… Plus she already knew how unhappy our family was. "He did. He was being an asshole," I answered. "But technically, I hit him first."

She grimaced as she took in my appearance more closely. When I didn't say anything else about why we got in a fight, she didn't inquire. "Oh, Peeta…How am I supposed to kiss you now?" she whispered quietly.

I managed to smile and said, "Just gotta put your lips to mine, like always." She smiled half-heartedly and leaned back on the couch, as I held the frozen bag in my own hand now. "So whatcha been up to today?" I asked.

"Hunted all day. I made a deal with Greasy Sae to get that chicken for yesterday's dinner, and I owe her about a dozen more squirrels and rabbits," she told me. She shrugged and continued, "Which isn't too horrible, but it's a lot of work."

"You killed that chicken yourself?" I asked disbelievingly. I always learned new things about her that surprised me, and I loved it. She nodded at me. "You can always buy it now, you know, if you wanted to," I told her.

"I guess it's just habit to hunt and trade…I enjoy it," she answered. "I mean, if I'm able to do something, why not do it?"

I could see how Katniss would think that. She's a hard worker. Katniss gave all of her money to her mom so she would be able to care for the house and for Prim, and Katniss just lived life like she did before the reaping. "I can't believe you know how to do that by yourself," I said, referring to killing and gutting a chicken. "Impressive," I smiled.

"I try," she answered, getting up off the couch and laughing. "Well, I'm gonna go shower. You want leftovers for dinner?"

"Yeah, but that won't be for a while longer. Want a shower buddy?" I asked. Maybe I was pushing my luck, but I felt pretty confident lately. Luckily, she agreed, so went upstairs together. This was great. Things were progressing a little fast, yeah, but it felt natural and normal. I loved it. And she knew I didn't expect anything out of her or anything, which was the great thing, because I knew a lot of guys would probably make a girl feel really uncomfortable about showering together. Hopefully I didn't do that to her.

Like last time, we were a little shy about undressing in front of each other. After we hopped in and starting washing off, however, things were fine. Maybe I was finally starting to rid her of her awkwardness around nudity. I hoped so, because I wanted her to see that she was beautiful. I knew she didn't feel that way about herself, but she was just sending herself the wrong messages entirely. Her body was just ideal—a perfect complement to her personality. I tried to make her see, but she always reflected my compliments back to myself. She was sweet, but I knew I wasn't anything too special, especially compared to my brothers. They had all the good looks, really. But I tried not to think about things like that. If she liked my body, that was great. It liked hers.

I managed to not let my teenage hormones take me to another place entirely in the shower, and we dried off together before lounging on the couch to watch television for the rest of the evening.

**Katniss' POV**

While in the Hob, I saw Gale, but we didn't talk. We didn't talk yesterday when I saw him getting yet another wound mended by Mom. The silent-treatment was what our friendship had come to, I guess. I knew he wanted me to approach him first, but I wasn't going to.

I guessed it was one of his days off because, otherwise, he'd be sleeping. Unless he just woke up. I didn't know—I probably shouldn't even take the time to care. I saw him notice me as our eyes met, but I looked away first. He quietly observed me giving my kills to Sae without getting anything in return. I wondered if he'd be curious as to why that was.

He was sitting at a table playing cards with a few other older men and _smoking_. That surprised me quite a bit, but I knew it shouldn't. A lot of people didn't have much to do here at the Hob now that they had a steady supply of food. There wasn't a huge need to trade anymore. I did it because I would be bored if I didn't. The few people that were out working hard and still engaging in business during the daytime at the Hob were just smart, in my opinion. Who knew how long this would last? The Capitol could easily stop all packages and money-flow to our district, and then where would we be? Most of the people would be completely screwed because they had come to rely on the Capitol, and that's exactly what they wanted. That's why I still hunted so I could freeze meat for the winter, and that's why I gave most of my money to Mom and just put the rest of it in a safe place in Victor's Village.

Gale's face was covered with scratches, and I wondered how hard he had been working to get so many cuts and injuries lately. There were probably more cuts that I couldn't see because it looked like he had stopped shaving his face. The beginnings of a dark beard covered half his face. I looked at him in longing of the boy I used to know, but I quickly turned my head and left the Hob. He wasn't that boy anymore. He was grown up now, gambling and smoking and working a dangerous job.

Somebody cat-called as I was walking out of the place. I foolishly turned my head instead of ignoring it, and I was met by the sight of Gale slapping the back of a man's head who was sitting next to him. Gale saw me witness the exchange and I seemed to sense protectiveness in his dark eyes before he turned them once again to the cards he was holding. I walked faster out of the place as I rolled my eyes. I was _not_ an object for people to fight over, dammit.

That's something I had to credit Peeta for. He never _ever_ made me feel like anything but…special. I always said that he made me feel like I had a lot to live up to, but _really_, I didn't. I could sit on my ass all day doing nothing and he'd still tell me I was the best; I could come down with the flu and he'd still tell me I was beautiful. I was falling fast and hard, and I was conscious and _happy _of the fact, which made it even weirder.

Peeta and I still had a lot of shy moments around each other, even though we both know it's become useless to feel that way. I know that he's strong and brave, and maybe I am, too, but sometimes when we're together, it's like we're blubbering children or something. Sometimes he made me want to impress him, and I was scared that I wouldn't meet his expectations, and then other times I felt like I was the most gorgeous person in the world in his eyes and all I wanted to do was to please him and give him all my love. It was so back-and-forth. Just like my hormones. Sometimes I felt that ache inside of me for no reason and I wanted him to fulfill it, and sometimes I didn't feel like doing anything intimate with him at all besides sleeping. I was confusing. But I was really excited later that evening when Peeta suggested that we shower together again. I wasn't really feeling frisky or anything, but showering with him was fun, and I've noticed the more we do it, the more normal it became.

He asked me to sing a song this time, though, and then I became a little nervous again but didn't show it. His reasoning was that he'd walked in on me singing many times, so he knew I did it when I was alone and he wanted to hear, too. I agreed and sang a verse to the Valley Song because I know that was what he remembered me singing when we were young. When I didn't finish all of it, he started to sing along, too, and we finished the song together, facing one another. Afterwards, I stared at his face looking down at mine. I would never _not_ be mesmerized by those eyes of his—they were hypnotizing. I literally couldn't stop looking away because I had never seen anything so purely blue before. Even his left eye, which could only open halfway because of the fight he had gotten in earlier today, was still gleaming brightly under his swollen eyelid. I still felt bad that he looked so beaten up, but he assured me not to worry. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened, though. I never wondered for too long, though, because Peeta would always just say something sappy to make me blush like he usually did.

"Your voice is the prettiest I've ever heard," he sincerely told me while looking in my eyes, too. His smile crinkled the edges of his eyes and I had to look away as I smiled back, embarrassed. We finished our shower singing more songs together, and I felt more at ease since it wasn't just me singing alone in front of him.

Later on, we got to be lazy together. I loved it. Lying beside Peeta made me feel so safe and secure, especially when our bodies were entwined and I was all wrapped up in him. We comfortably watched television on the couch, Peeta lying on his back with his arm around me and me on my side squished between his body and the cushions. Peeta put a blanket on top of us while we stretched out our limbs. I was only mindlessly watching the TV, paying more attention to Peeta's heartbeat under my ear and the warmth of his arm wrapped snugly around my back. I loved his touch—I was becoming addicted to it…always craving it, always wanting it. I thought again how crazy it seemed to be this out-of-touch with who I usually am. I've never been this sappy or romantic. Maybe this romantic side was there underneath me this entire time and Peeta was just bringing it out.

I was becoming so comfortable that I was about to fall asleep, but I knew I needed to get up to heat up our dinner before it got too late. I grudgingly tore my body from his to go into the kitchen, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.

I made an embarrassing noise as I plopped back down on his lap. I looked at him, chuckling. "You don't want dinner?" I teased him. He smiled back at me. "I do," he answered, "but I was comfy. Stayyy. Five more minutes," he whined.

I rolled my eyes but didn't mean it as I stretched back out onto the couch on top of him. "Ookay." I acted like I was put out, but I didn't mind at all. He contentedly sighed as he wrapped his arms around my back, and I lowered my lips to his. My hands fluttered up, my thumbs tracing his jaw line, and I softly pressed my lips to his slightly chapped ones. Not wanting to hurt his split lip, I shortly backed away to softly kiss his top lip, then his cheek, then his jaw. "Mmm," came a noise out of his throat. I nuzzled my head into his neck and rested it on his chest.

"Why'd you stop?" he whispered. I could hear the smile in his voice if that was possible.

I raised my eyes but not my head and saw him looking down at me, smirking. "Your lip's hurt," I answered obviously.

"I told you it looks worse than it is," he stubbornly said. He pulled at my shirt a little bit and I rose my head up again, amused by his behavior. I carefully kissed him again, slowly and chaste. Out of character, Peeta's hand around my neck pressed my face closer to his to deepen the kiss. Usually he was the one being painfully slow, so to show him how that felt, I refused to give him access to my mouth just yet. I moved my lips against his languidly, and I immediately realized why he liked it so much. The small, gentle noises of our lips moving against each other mixed with the fact that I knew Peeta wanted to go faster was _hot_. In just moments of kissing, I felt tingly again. It was amazing how he could have that effect on my body…

His tongue insistently stroked my lower lip until I finally parted my mouth enough for it to explore further. I became limp on top of him, just lying on his muscles and faintly touching his face while his arms moved around on my back and through freshly-shampooed hair. It wasn't long before I couldn't breathe. We were getting a little ahead of ourselves; my pulse was already rapidly beating in my head and my pants. I didn't break the kiss, though. I just slowed it back down again while I ran my fingers through Peeta's hair, too. He groaned, and I opened my eyes to see his already open and looking at me. He smiled against my mouth, and we reluctantly left each other's lips to regain our breath.

I put my head back on his chest. Under my ear, I could feel his heart beating fast. "Sorry if that creeped you out," he said, running his hands up and down my back again. "What?" I whispered.

"Looking at you while we kiss. I…I've never felt anything like this before," his voice was hoarse. "I can't help but look at you."

"Oh," I whispered back. He always knew exactly what to say to make me speechless. "It's okay," I finally said. Both of his hands cupped my cheeks and lifted my face off of his chest and back to meet his lips again, wordlessly bringing both of us into yet another searing hot kiss. My legs dropped to either side of Peeta's while we ran our hands along each other wildly—me finally settling for Peeta's arms, and Peeta preferring the tops of my legs around his waist.

He greedily sucked on my bottom lip, and I felt his teeth gently scrape the skin there. It felt amazing. Our eager tongues met again and I arched into his body, completely intoxicated and open. My eyes snapped open when I felt his hardness pressed against my center, and I removed my lips from his, panting into his face. Wow. It was so easy for the two of us to get lost in each other.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized tremulously, out of breath himself. "It doesn't mean anything—we don't have to do anything. I'm sorry, I can't help it."

"I..No, it's okay," I said, not being able to formulate words. How had this so quickly happened? I wasn't aroused whatsoever five minutes ago, and now we were about to start moving against each other again. I removed myself from his lap and stood up, my mouth stupidly agape and my hair tangled.

"I didn't mean to scare you away," he said as he shifted his body to sit upright on the couch. "I didn't plan on that, I swear."

I smiled down at him. "Peeta, stop apologizing, really. There's nothing to say sorry for." He smiled a little in response and asked me to sit back down.

"Why'd you get up, then?" he said, but not in a pressuring way. Everything he said was always nice. Peeta was just a genuinely nice guy.

"…I feel so out of control when we're together sometimes," I admitted. Before he could doubt himself more, I said, "It's not a bad thing. I just don't get my body… I don't get how it's even possible." I shrugged.

"It's attraction," Peeta said quietly. "I feel it, too. It's okay to feel that way. Around each other." He smiled again.

It really _was_ attraction. It was as if our bodies were two magnets that had to be joined. Again, I already felt my body indiscriminately leaning towards his, and his must've been doing the same because soon our faces became closer and closer to each other yet again. Then the doorbell rang, and Peeta and I both widened our eyes and jumped a bit at the disturbance. We shared a look of mild confusion before I got off the couch to see who it was. Peeta would've taken too long with his leg. I can tell it'd been hurting him lately even though he wouldn't admit it.

Looking through the peephole, I saw a small, fair blond girl with two braids on either side of her face. I smiled and told Peeta, "It's Prim."

Opening the door, I smiled at my little sister but was somewhat worried as to why she was here.

"Hi, Katniss! I hope I'm not interrupting anything…" she greeted me. I must've looked a sight. I was sure my hair was a mess, but I didn't care.

"No, not at all," I told her, even though Peeta and I were _kind of_ in the middle of something. That was okay, though. "Come on in," I said as I opened the door wider.

"Um, actually…Do you mind coming out here for a minute?" she whispered.

Looking suspicious, I closed the door behind me and walked out on the porch with Prim. "Is everything okay?" I asked her.

She smiled to reassure me that she was fine. "Oh, everything's fine. I just didn't know who to go to…It's kind of embarrassing," she said.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused.

"I need to borrow a little bit of money," she said. "Not a lot or anything! Maybe..fifteen dollars?" she said in a small voice.

"Oh..." Then I became Miss Detective. "Why? What's wrong? What happened to all the money that I gave to Mom?" I asked.

"Oh, she had to lend a lot to Hazelle," Prim said. What? I specifically told Mom that the money was for her and Prim. I internally cussed at my mom. She had no money management skills at all. It was such a rarity that once it was in the picture, it was now to be thrown around carelessly, I guess. Then I thought about how bitchy I was being about this... What if something really serious was going on with Hazelle?

"Why?" I still didn't understand how _that_ much money could just be gone. Why couldn't she have saved some? Why lend everything to Hazelle? Or, how's this—why couldn't she have bought Prim clothes a week or so ago? God knows that she needed them, and if Mom had the money, then why not spend it on necessities? Necessities that I had in mind when I _gave her all of the money_.

"I don't know. It's between them," Prim answered.

"Well, what's wrong with you?" I inquired further.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong," she said without looking at me. "It's just really embarrassing."

I couldn't guess what she was talking about. I had no clue. "Well, what is it?" I asked almost impatiently.

She dropped her voice to barely a whisper as she spoke, "I started..I started my period."

Oh! I didn't know what to say to her. Couldn't she go to Mom about this? What was I supposed to say to her? "Ooh…" I said a little awkwardly. I really didn't know how to react to that. "…What do you need money for?"

"Um, well I kindofruinedmyclothestoday…And before you say anything, I really like your clothes, it's just they're a little too big for me right now, and Mama's clothes are too, and it's not like we have a lot of clothes anyway..So anyway, Mama was gonna make me a new dress for this summer, but she needs fabric, and if I can get some money she can do it today or tomorrow and then that leaves the rest of the week for me to sell Lady's cheese."

"Slooow down," I said. I thought about her story in my head. Still in disbelief about it all, I asked Prim to clarify, "So you're saying that Mom has no money at all left to go into town and _buy_ new clothes for you?"

She shook her head.

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

"She had to give a big loan to Hazelle, Katniss! I just told you. I'm sorry," she said, close to tears.

"Prim, it's okay. Seriously, don't cry. It's fine."

"I'm really sorry! You know I wouldn't ask you for anything if I didn't have to," she said. She was so sweet. I pulled her into a hug.

"It's really okay. I just don't understand Mom sometimes." Removing my arms from Prim, I opened the front door behind me and told her, "I just have to go get my key and run over to my house and get it. I'll be right back."

She stayed on the porch looking guilty as I noticed the fabric of her untucked shirt hiding the seat of her pants. Poor Prim. She didn't answer me, so I just held up a finger to signify that I'd be right back.

"Hey, Peeta?" I called out to him as I walked to the couch where he had his leg propped up again. He looked up at me from the television show he was watching. "I'm gonna run next door real quick."

"What's up?" he asked.

"I need to go get some money for Prim." Before he asked any questions, I just said, "It's a long story."

I walked away so I could look for my house key. I forgot where I had put it. Damn. I was in the kitchen pulling out every single drawer, but I couldn't find it anywhere.

"How much?" Peeta asked from the couch. I looked over at him and saw that he had pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and had it open.

"No," I told him simply, putting my hand up to wave off his generosity. "I have money at the other house, but I can't find my freaking key."

"How much?" he asked again. "Really."

I stopped my frantic search of the kitchen drawers to look at him in distress. "Peeta, really, I have the money. You don't have to do this."

He swung his legs off the couch and stood up. "I'll just go ask her, then," he said, and began to walk towards the front door.

I sighed in frustration and met him at the door. How could one person be like this? It was ridiculous. "She said maybe fifteen dollars?" I told him in a half-question because I didn't know if that was too much to ask for. I was being silly because I could just go over to my house to give him back the money almost immediately.

He pulled out a twenty and handed it to me with a smile. "Tell her there's no rush to pay it back," he said. He was so nice. He probably wouldn't care if she _never_ paid it back.

I opened the door to Prim waiting with her hands clasped behind her back. I smiled and handed her the bill. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise it won't take long to repay. Are you sure this isn't putting you out?"

"No, no," Peeta replied. Prim's eyes met his and widened.

"Oh, Peeta, I didn't mean for you to…" she didn't finish but asked again, "Are you sure?"

He nodded and smiled. "Don't mention it. So, we're about to have dinner. Wanna come in and eat with us?"

"Oh, thanks, but I have to get home. Maybe another time, that would be great," she said politely.

"Okay, then," Peeta said. "Well, have a safe walk home!"

"Yeah. Take care, Prim," I told her. She still didn't make a move to walk off the porch, and I looked at her in confusion.

"Um.. You told me you we were going to your house and I was going to give you this there, but I'll just…" she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. "It's a note from Gale. He said I had to give it to you right away."

I looked down at the square in my palm and looked over to Peeta who was also looking at it with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

I waited until Prim left my sight to unfold the paper. Peeta stood beside me, evidently curious as to what was in the letter but trying not to invade my privacy by not looking over my shoulder. I walked to the porch swing on the edge of the porch to sit down before beginning reading.

I was a little apprehensive about this. Gale didn't write letters; he wasn't the letter-writing type. A million different things ran through my head as to what this could be about. I quickly unfolded the letter and saw Gale's messy handwriting fill the top part of the notebook paper, and my eyes began rapidly moving back and forth to follow his words.

Kat,  
I hope you actually read this. I'm going to be away for a while, and I hate that I can't talk to you before I go. I'm sorry for everything I did and am doing to hurt you.  
I just want things back to normal between us, if that's all you want. Just please think hard on everything and make sure you're making the right decision.  
There's so much more I want to say, but there's no right time to. Hopefully I'll see you soon.  
Do me a favor and burn this after you read it.  
Take care of yourself,  
Gale

Well, that didn't have any good implications whatsoever. He was "going to be away"… My eyes scrunched up in thought as I wondered where on earth he would be going. It's not like he could just hop in a car and travel between districts for some time to clear his head or something. One: he had no vehicle, and two: you can't just travel between districts. I didn't get it; there was literally nowhere to go. Unless he was just hiding himself away in the wilderness or something. Or maybe he got special permission to go to another district? But Gale's not an important figure…why would he get special permission?

I still didn't understand. There was so much that didn't make sense. And "hopefully I'll see you soon" implied that he didn't know how long he would be away, right? Who goes somewhere and doesn't know when they'll be back? And where the hell was he going?

The thing that I didn't like most of all was the burn-after-reading part. I skimmed over the note again, and I didn't really see why he wanted me to burn it. And I didn't see why he underlined part of it. I _was_ taking care of myself. Why did reading this make me feel so paranoid? I felt wrong for holding it in my hand now, like it was a piece of evidence in some horrible mystery I wasn't supposed to know about.

Peeta hadn't moved from where he was standing by the front door, but he looked over at me after I had finished reading. "You can sit here, too," I said, patting the area beside me and slowing my swinging movements I hadn't realized I had started. He silently moved to take a seat next to me on the porch swing. Since he was quiet, I had to assume it was about the fact that Gale wrote me a letter. "Read it if you want to," I said, offering the piece of paper to him, but he denied my offer. "Peeta," I said more firmly, "your jaw is clenched. Just read it, it's no big deal."

He sighed and accepted the letter I was shoving in his hand. He read it quickly before re-folding it and giving it back to me. "Wonder what that's all about," was all he said.

"Yeah, me too," I said quietly. I put the letter in the back pocket of my shorts, and Peeta and I sat quietly on the porch for quite a while, dinner now forgotten. The sun was on its descent behind the mountains, and the light it emitted was pretty from where we were watching. It was easy to get wrapped up in watching it sink out of sight, and we did get immersed in it, listening to the crickets sing and the lightning bugs light up until almost all light of day was gone. We softly rocked back and forth on the swing. Peeta put his arm around me, and I rested my hand on top of his knee, softly moving my fingers. Soon he nudged my left leg with his right one and put his hand on top of mine. "That tickles," he said. I chuckled.

The evening was calm, almost too calm. Our minds were empty, just focused on our surroundings, when suddenly a loud, booming noise filled the whole sky. My heart jumped in my throat from the surprise of it. I looked around and saw the low, dark clouds full of rain quickly rolling in. When just a few moments ago, the sky was fine, there was now obviously going to be a storm. Luckily our porch was covered because just seconds later, vicious rain fell from the sky in angry, loud sheets, instantly forming puddles where it landed.

I was happy it was raining, and I turned my body so I could watch it. I loved summertime storms. I could watch them forever. I could watch them from a window or from a porch, or from far away. The sound and smell and feel of the rain along with the thunder and lightning was magnificent. It just wasn't the same any other time of year. It had to be summer.

I lifted my legs and placed my feet on the piece of furniture, hugging my knees to me and resting my head on them. I felt Peeta get up from beside me and begin to walk down the porch steps. He was soaking wet within seconds. I lifted my head. "What are you doing?" I asked in shock.

He waved his hand to gesture that I should come with him and mysteriously smiled. I stood up and walked to the stairs until I could go no further without getting wet. "Peeta," I said, slightly amused, "what are you doing?"

"Come on," he laughed. "Let's take a walk in the rain."

I laughed at him and yelled over the noisy drops hitting the porch. "You're crazy! You're going to get sick!" I hollered at him, sounding so much like my mother and hating it.

"Come. On!" he said louder with more conviction, beckoning me off the porch with both of his hands now. "It's really warm!" He extended his arms to either side of him and tilted his head back to allow the water to hit his face. His hair looked brown as it flattened against his skin, and I could visibly see the pellets splashing against his face and arms. I didn't know why I was being so hesitant because I actually loved the rain. It was more in response to how Peeta was acting—almost reckless. I wasn't used to it.

I took a deep breath and quickly ran down the porch steps to stand beside Peeta. We were both without shoes in the now-mushy mud. The rain did feel warm. It was like taking a giant outdoor shower but probably wasn't the wisest idea in the world because of the lightning. I smiled at Peeta, and he beamed at me. It was hard to see him even though I was standing close to him, but I could see his white teeth brilliantly showing from his big grin.

A loud rumble shook the sky above us and I lifted my head as if I could see something, but I just ended up getting water in my mouth. I stuck out my tongue. Prim and I used to pretend rain was food falling from the sky and we would tilt our heads back and open our mouths wide and tell each other what was on the menu. The thought made me smile. Then I felt a large gush of thick mud wet my legs. I looked over and saw that Peeta, with his foot, had splashed water on the bottom of my legs, but it was more mud than anything else. I was covered in dirt, but soon it washed off with the rain. My jaw dropped in astonishment, but I laughed. _ 'Take a walk,' my ass, _I thought.

I exclaimed, "Peeta!" and used my feet to aim mud at him, too. I liked playful Peeta. Soon we were jumping in puddles and splashing one another with our hands and feet without taking a break. I was having a lot of fun. Every layer of clothes I wore became filthy and clung heavily to my skin. We'd have to take another shower and we just literally got done getting clean, but it was worth it.

Soon Peeta and I had an unspoken agreement to catch our breaths, so our mud fight was put on hold as we calmed down. It was now dark outside, and the only light came from Peeta's front porch where dozens of tiny bugs were floating around the bulb and the occasional far-off display of lightning. I watched the moths by the front door flying around and around the light bulb until finally finding a spot among all the others to just rest on it. Then that would cause another one to fly around and around and around the light before sitting on it again. And on and on. All of those bugs were attracted to the light for some unknown reason, and they were compelled to act strangely because of it. It was a metaphor for my life.

The rain hit the top of my head softer now, signifying the end of the storm. The thing about summer thunderstorms is that they're short-lived. The power of them comes in fast and strong, making an impression and then leaving just as quickly. Another metaphor for me?

Peeta looked adorably sheepish as the thunderclouds finally left, so I decided to pick on him.

"I'll have you know these were my best and fanciest clothes," I told him in a Capitol accent. "I _do_ expect you to replace them," I finished debonairly. He approached me from behind and hugged me close to him. Leaning down to my ear he said, "Anything you wish, m'lady." I rolled my eyes but smiled. He was so cheesy. It was cheesy, I convinced myself, not sexy…I looked down and noticed goosebumps on my arms. They would be from my wet skin rapidly drying in the night air, though, not from Peeta's breath in my ear… My body was so traitorous! I hadn't made a decision to stop doing what we'd been doing or anything, but I was trying to see if I could last at least a night without these feelings popping up. Just to see if it was possible. I wasn't doing well. Already this evening there had been the couch incident and now this.

I untangled myself from Peeta's arms and walked back on the porch. I wasn't about to walk inside because I would drip everywhere, so I took off my shirt and pants—with difficulty—and left them hanging over the rail to dry as I wordlessly walked inside the house. The chilly air immediately welcomed me, and I shivered. I looked around and noticed Peeta hadn't moved yet, apparently having been watching me undress. I called to him from just inside the house, "Come on, hurry up! It's freezing!"

He slowly walked up the porch steps, but I couldn't wait for him. I ran upstairs and jumped in the hot shower to warm up my bones. The water turned brown from the mud in my hair and body, and soon I saw a hand push the curtain aside and in stepped a dirty Peeta. "Couldn't even wait for me, huh?" he asked, shaking his head and faking being disappointed. I smiled but defended myself, "I was cold. I still am."

He looked at my chest and said, "I can see that." My eyes widened at what he was referring to and he smiled and let out a laugh.

"Peeta!" I playfully slapped his arm. I was amused by his behavior tonight.

"You are too funny," he said, laughing some more.

"Why's that?" I asked curiously.

He shook his head. "You're just cute without realizing it," he replied evasively.

I responded with a noise. "Whatever," I finally said, but tried for it not to sound rude. He pulled me to him and kissed my forehead. "You are," he said convincingly. It was funny that I stopped thinking about being naked and hugging him—it just felt normal and not dirty. It was like we were a couple. Who had I become? I didn't know if I recognized this side of me, this part that could shower with somebody and press my naked body against him and not be embarrassed or ashamed. That I could listen to somebody say such suggestive things to me like that I'm cute or beautiful and I would smile and sometimes _giggle_ in response. I didn't feel like I looked any different on the outside, but on the inside I had undergone a complete transformation. I tilted my face to his and puckered my lips. He gave me an exaggerated kiss with comically-pursed lips, too. He let go with a smacking sound and grinned toothily at me.

Peeta's hands rested on the small of my back, gently and slowly moving up and down in the safe territory. I had my hands around him and resting on his upper back. I placed my head on his chest. It was nice with both of our bodies wet and the water sprinkling on our backs. I had closed my eyes and hugged him closer to me when suddenly my eyes jolted open. I cared for Peeta. That much was obvious. But I really,_ really_ cared for Peeta. The enormity of my feelings hit me hard in the chest and I pulled him closer still. What would I do without him? And where did these thoughts even come from? I had made it just fine throughout my entire life without Peeta, but now I suddenly felt like I wouldn't be able to function without him. Now that I knew what it was like to be around him, be comforted by him, be protected by him, and laugh with him, I wouldn't want it any other way. It was scary to feel dependent. It just meant that I might eventually get hurt. It was also scary to not have a firmer grip on my body. My heart had taken over for my brain, and my body had turned into some sex machine. I didn't feel in charge.

Abruptly I let my hands drop from Peeta's body. "Alright, I'm all done," I said and tried to smile at him before I stepped out of the shower. He stepped out seconds later after turning off the water. "You all right?" he asked as he observed me rapidly towel-drying.

"Yeah," I said nonchalantly. Everything was normal—just had to act normal. I even shrugged my shoulders in a cool way. "I had already showered. I was… basically clean already. And I'm tired. So I'm going to go to bed."

He examined me closer as I flipped the towel up on my head to keep my hair out of the way while I finished drying off.

"No dinner?" Peeta asked, drying himself off too.

Oh. "Oh, well, yeah…" I had forgotten we hadn't eaten. I suddenly remembered how hungry I actually was.

He observed me deeper still. I got the feeling that he could read my mind. "You sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Why?" I acted like he was absurd for thinking anything was wrong. Nothing was wrong, Peeta. I just think I love you, and I'm terrified. And I'm a horrible actress.

He shrugged but didn't look upset. "Just asking." I stepped into the bedroom to throw some clothes on, and he followed me with a towel around his waist. He opened the window before changing into a simple pair of boxer shorts. Walking towards the bedroom door, he said, "I'll warm everything up for us and we can eat in bed." I looked up and saw him smiling at me before disappearing down the stairs. Guessing he'd need help carrying stuff up here, I went downstairs after putting on a tank top and some shorts.

We were never allowed to eat in our rooms growing up, so I was surprised he had suggested it. I'd never ever eaten in bed before. I walked into the kitchen and stood next to Peeta by the microwave. He noticed me and gently said, "I was going to bring everything up—you can just wait up there if you want."

"What about mice?" I asked, thinking about the reason we were never allowed to eat in our rooms growing up. "Or cockroaches?"

He looked at me in confusion, like he hadn't even thought of that. "I…I didn't realize…" he said. "But I'll just set the table and we can eat here—it'll be easier, anyway." I kind of liked that idea better, even if I was being stupid. But mice and cockroach infestations in the Seam weren't pleasant memories.

"I can help," I suggested. He didn't have to do _everything._ The microwave beeped and he removed the bowl inside. He tested it with a spoon for heat and taste before telling me it was done.

"That's yours. And _this_," he said, referring to a big bowl in front of him, "is mine." He searched his spice rack and poured about five different things in his bowl before putting it in the microwave. I watched in enjoyment. He was such a chef. He looked so cute standing in front of the microwave in his boxers, anxiously shifting his legs until the timer beeped. I had to stop staring—I was gawking at every ridge of his muscles and every bare spot of skin. I was in over my head. I moved to grab napkins and silverware and put them on the table so I would stop being tempted by half-naked Peeta.

"Whatcha want to drink?" he asked me.

"Oh," I said, shaking my head. I hadn't realized I was staring at him again after I set the table. "I can get it," I said, reaching for the cabinet. Peeta put his hand over mine and opened it himself, pulling out two glasses.

"You don't have to do everything by yourself," he told me. His face looked genial, but I could sense some deeper meaning to his words.

"I know, and neither do you," I said, sticking out my bottom lip and raising my eyebrows. "If I can do it myself, why have someone else do it?" I said, almost expecting no answer. It was something I said all the time; I was self-reliant.

"Because they want to," he answered, giving me a pointed look. He then opened the refrigerator and looked inside, saying "There's sweet tea, milk, water, and soda. What will Katniss be drinking tonight with her meal?"

"She wants sweet tea," I answered, walking over to the fridge and holding out my glass like I expected him to fill it. I was just being funny, but he did fill it, and then he put ice in it. I was speechless at his courtesy but still found words to tease him. "No straw?"

He dashed to another cabinet and pulled out a straw, silencing me when I protested "I was just kidding!" He dropped the straw in my glass and asked, "All good?"

"Yes, thank you." I looked at the table. "Are you going to pull out the chair for me, too?"

"If you want," he said seriously. "Katniss, what's so wrong with me wanting to do things for you?"

My eyes widened a little. I guess I had hurt his feelings. "Nothing…" I said timidly. "It's just new to me. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, but you don't have to be sarcastic about me wanting to make you happy," he replied. "I do things because I want to."

I looked at the table, averting my eyes from his firm gaze. "Sorry," I said again, feeling stupid. I just was used to doing everything myself. It was new to have somebody wait on me, and that's what it felt like. I would have to train myself to just accept that Peeta was a kind-hearted person who liked to do things like that for other people. I had a feeling I would be able to accept it easier the more it became familiar. Like everything else about Peeta, his niceness had a way of getting into your body and soaking your bones in warmth, so much so that you just felt completely at ease around him. Even when he was being stern because you denied his offers of help.

Peeta had gotten our bowls and put them on the table. He pulled out the chair that I liked to sit in and looked up at me with a smirk. I rolled my eyes so he could see but still sat down.

I devoured my food. I was starving, and chicken and dumplings are much better the day after they're cooked. "Mmmmmm," I drew out my approval after my first bite. Peeta grinned at me. "What did you put in this? This is delicious!" I told him, thinking he put spices and stuff in my bowl, too.

"You made it," he said, smiling as he chewed. "I didn't add a thing to your bowl." He took another bite, swallowed, then asked, "Do you want me to though?"

"No, no," I said, waving my hand to his offer. He didn't need to do anything else. "I actually like things kind of plain. This is just a lot better than I remember it being," I said with my mouth full of food.

"It _is_ delicious. You don't give yourself enough credit." I looked at Peeta and for once didn't protest. Compliments were hard for me to receive, but I would try to learn to.

The rest of dinner was filled with the sound of our spoons hitting our bowls. We finished in just over five minutes if I had to guess. We were hungry. Peeta cleaned up, of course, then we brushed our teeth and finally jumped in the bed. It was one of my favorite parts of the day: lying in bed under a cozy blanket and skin-soft sheets, next to a good-smelling Peeta with his arm wrapped around me. The window that Peeta never forgot to open before bed let a comfortable flow of night air into the room. I knew I'd be asleep within minutes.

I planned out the next day in my head while snuggling next to Peeta. I would hunt, of course, but I really wanted to go see Prim. I missed her. Maybe I could take her shopping if I could find my key to next door to get money. Maybe I'd just visit her. And _maybe_ I'd have a word with my mother.

**Peeta's POV**

"One more day of work left," I said, stretching under the blanket before settling in close to Katniss. She smiled at me and yawned. Her yawn became contagious, and I was soon yawning non-stop, too. We'd had an exhausting evening of playing in the mud. "Looking forward to that date?" I asked, smelling in her hair that was splayed in every direction near my face.

Katniss nodded, yawned again, and said, "Mmhmm. What are we going to do?"

I shrugged. "We could do anything. Any ideas?"

"I don't really know," she answered, rubbing her eyes.

"Hmm," I whispered thoughtfully. "Then I'll think extra hard about something you'd like."

"I'd like anything," she whispered back. I smiled, and within moments we were both asleep.

The next morning Katniss woke up at the same time I did with a rare early-morning alertness. At first, she stayed asleep through the commotion of my obnoxious alarm clock, and as always, I turned it off and sat up in bed to fully wake up. Outside the open window, birds were already noisily starting their days. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and looked over at Katniss. Her hair was around her pillow like a sleepy storm, and then she started to stretch. She turned her head to mine and forced her eyes to open wide. She was determined to get out of bed for some reason even though the sun hadn't even risen, so we got ready for the day together. I found that I liked it a lot not having to do everything alone. It was like a husband and wife getting ready for work together or something. Maybe that'd be us someday, if I was lucky. I would never get tired of spending every day with her.

Once in the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and everything from yesterday came back to me. I had made a stupid decision, and my face looked worse than it had last night. Even after letting rain pound down on my face last night, I was having so much fun that I didn't really feel anything. Now it ached with an annoying feeling of swollen soreness. My entire left side was all fucked up and gross-looking—the left eye, cheek, and leg.

I guess there were better, healthier ways to have solved the issues I was having with Ryan than to use my fists as weapons. At the moment, though, all I could picture was Ryan and Will lying next to Katniss in the cave and doing things I'm not even going to put words to, and a monster version of me that I didn't know existed came roaring to life. I would protect and stand up for Katniss in a heartbeat obviously, but in yesterday's circumstance, I really could have just let it slide and ignore it like I had done thousands of times before. The envy I felt wouldn't be tamed, however.

This green monster wanted to come out for a minute at the mention of Gale last night, too, but I needed to stop feeling like that about him. It was dumb. I couldn't rationally explain my jealousy. Katniss and I had talked about this subject way too much, and I knew her stance. The feelings dissipated very shortly, however, and I took that as a good sign that I was beginning to deal with it. Gale would always be in the picture, and I had a feeling he would always want Katniss. I had to trust her when she told me she didn't like him like that.

I was back to being my normal calm self today, and Katniss and I had a really nice walk down the path to town. She had to part from me after a while to make her way into the woods, but I wished we could just hang out all day, or that she could work at the bakery with me or something. I knew I'd just think about her at work all day.

She looked really pretty in the mornings, I discovered. It was like she woke up flawless with radiant skin and hair. Like a commercial. She could braid her hair effortlessly, and the way it looked accentuated her facial features without her even trying. Her beauty was unique because she didn't have to do anything to _make_ herself look a certain way. She just woke up looking perfect. Her kisses already tasted sweet this morning, and as she walked away from me, I wistfully stood staring at her until she was out of my sight.

Walking into town, I took in the hustle and bustle of the market. The day had just begun, and already lots of people were walking around on their way to work, chatting and laughing. The morale of the district had somewhat risen lately, but almost without notice. We still existed under a corrupt government, so there was only so much to be happy about.

My day at the bakery was weird—I had expected a normal day again of working on most of Dad's orders in the back while Ryan stayed by the counter and ignored everyone. To an extent, that's how the day began, but late in the morning, two Peacekeepers stormed in the place and demanded to search every square foot of our shop and the upstairs loft. Dad seemed really anxious but let them look around without question. They destroyed the downstairs area for no reason. Mom got a little mouthy with them when they went upstairs, demanding to know what was going on, but they silenced her with threats of pain and, for the first time in my life, I saw her face wear a mask of fright.

After they had succeeded in turning the house upside down, they left. They had pulled out documents and left cabinets and drawers open. The floor was littered in debris. The bedroom furniture was overturned. What were they looking for? My family was left staring around in utter confusion, and my mom quickly became her old self again. Dad began to put everything back in its place while Mom went from room to room and snapped her tongue while shaking her head

"Look at this place! You," she said, referring to me, "clean up these rooms. Especially yours, like you were supposed to do yesterday." She walked to the couch and was about to sit back down when I responded.

I was still being stubborn about that room and back-talked again. "I _told _you, it's not my room! I don't live here anymore!"

She was about to bend her legs to sit down on the couch and be lazy again, but in the next second, she was directly in front of me and her hand audibly smacked my cheek. My face contorted in pain because she had hit where I was already injured, but I didn't let any sound come out of me while I turned my head away so she couldn't hit me again. She just used her other hand to hit my other cheek until I backed enough away to get out of her reach. She just kept advancing, and all I could do was hold my forearms up to stop her from hitting my face. She succeeded in scratching my arms that I was protecting my face with. Her long nails drew blood.

"Stop!" I yelled at her. "STOP IT!" I kept screaming at her until I had been cornered into the kitchen and backed up against the countertops.

"You can't just keep sitting back and letting everyone else do all the work, Peeta!" She put her face as close to mine as she could, but I didn't look at her. "Your father's already in our room cleaning everything up, and Ryan's downstairs taking care of the bakery, and I'm up here working on bills, and _you_ just think you can get away with being lazy! You. Are. Worthless. Now act like a fucking man! Look at me!"

Two tears silently fell out of my eyes and onto the kitchen tile that I was looking at instead of my mother. I wordlessly walked around my mom to clean my old room in defeat.

"Don't walk away from me! You need an attitude adjustment, young man," she said. I closed my eyes and stopped walking to the bedroom as I quietly sighed. If I went in there when she was still yelling at me, it would be an even bigger problem. I'd just let her say what she had to say, make her feel like she won, then go in there and shut myself out.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Turn around and say it to my face," she said. I turned around and apologized again.

"You're spending too much time with that girl. She's influencing you. I can tell. Everyone can tell. You're acting like an asshole." I tried to think of something else as I looked in her eyes. She would think I was listening because I was looking at her, but my vacant mind was thinking various fleeting thoughts so I wouldn't have to focus so much on her nastiness. Her words were impossible to tune out all the way, though. "Ryan's face looks like shit because of you. His eye is black. He can barely open it. How does that make you feel?"

"Sorry," I responded. I knew that hate really did exist in life because I really, truly hated my mother. She was the epitome of evil. I wish she'd just leave me alone.

She scrutinized my face, like she thought I wasn't really sorry, or sorry enough, but she didn't seem to want to prolong this anymore since she had gotten most of her anger out earlier. "We'll finish this another time. Just go clean that room," she ordered. I went into my old childhood bedroom and closed the door.

For the rest of the day, I cleaned that room. It was inexcusably messy, and the Peacekeepers just added to the sty. I used a lot of trash bags from the kitchen and stuck all of Will's stuff in them and left all the bags by the closet for him. Around late afternoon, the door opened. Dad silently closed it behind him and sat on the bed as I was sitting on the floor going through piles of junk.

"Hey, son," he said, running his fingers through his hair. I got that behavior from him—I did that a lot too when I was stressed, or anxious, or thinking hard. "I'm really sorry about your mother. She's going through menopause," he said. I distorted my face; I didn't want to know that. And that certainly was no excuse, anyway. Dad was always making excuses.

When I didn't say anything, he continued talking, "I know you're supposed to be off for the next couple days, but now our orders are really backed up because of this whole mess from today…"

He seemed reluctant to ask for what he really wanted, so I did it for him. "So you want me to come in tomorrow," I stated.

"If you can," he replied. "Please. All of these orders have to be done by the end of the week. It would really be a big help, Peeta."

I sighed heavily. So much for the date with Katniss. There would always be the day after tomorrow, though, if she was still open to doing something. "All right," I told Dad, standing up and brushing stuff off my pants. "I'll see you in the morning. I'm going to head home now."

"Sure, sure," he said. "You be careful going home, and uh, and tell Katniss hi. And Peeta," he called from the bed, making me turn my head to look at him from where I was about to grab the door handle, "thank you." I quickly nodded my head and escaped the bakery.

What a day. I felt deflated. I wanted to go inside the house and just lay on my butt. Approaching the house, I saw our clothes from last night stiffly hanging on the porch railing, and a slow smile crossed my face. Last night was fun. _Katniss_. She'd make things better, definitely. I opened the front door and saw no sign of her being home just yet, so I grabbed the clothes from outside and decided to do some laundry.

The houses in the village have half-finished basements with the unfinished side devoted to laundry and storage. The washer and dryer down here were really fancy, and I still didn't completely know what every button did. I threw everything in my arms in the washer and tried to remember which thing to press, and after a minute I was satisfied I had gotten the procedure correct. As I walked back up the stairs to the main floor, I gasped. I hurried back as fast as I could to stop the washing machine. Katniss had that freaking letter in her pocket. My mom always used to hit me for never checking the pockets in our laundry, so you would think that I would automatically remember to do it. I don't know what's wrong with my mind sometimes.

I opened the washing machine door and noticed that the clothes hadn't gotten wet yet, so that was good. I took everything out and emptied every pocket just in case anything was in there. When I got to Katniss' shorts, though, her pockets were empty. I double-checked everything, and I even looked inside the washing machine to see if it had fallen out. Nothing was there. My eyes narrowed in confusion. I went back outside to the porch, but after five or so minutes of searching, I couldn't find anything. That was weird.

**Katniss' POV**

Even though I had stayed up sort of late the night before, the next day I got up early. Peeta and I woke up and got dressed and ready for the day together. It was unusual for me to wake up early, but for some reason I wasn't tired, and I did want to visit with Prim anyway.

Peeta and I both stumbled into the bathroom together and squinted after I turned on the lights. Peeta forgot about his injured face as he began to splash water on it. It looked worse this morning than it had yesterday, but I didn't say anything. His left eye was puffy and red, but at least it wasn't bruised. His cheekbone, however, was dark red and swollen. That whole side of his face looked pretty rough.

"Fuck!" he sharply said when his hand came into harsh contact with his face. I rarely heard him cuss, so I jerked my head his way at his outburst and felt bad that there was nothing I could do. I just continued brushing my teeth. I looked at him through the mirror in front of me and observed him absent-mindedly inspecting his face in better detail before he began to shave. He seemed to be disappointed at something because he was frowning, or maybe he was just like this in the morning. I'd never really had the opportunity to see how he behaved in the morning after first getting out of bed.

His eyes were thick with sleep as he dabbed shaving cream all over his face and used his fingers to spread it around. I brushed my teeth for longer than I needed to because I wanted to watch him drag the razor across his face, jaw, and neck. It was intriguing. He noticed me looking, and I received his first smile of the day, even if it was just a small one. With my toothbrush in my mouth, I smiled a little bit guiltily at being caught and looked away to finish my morning routines in front of the mirror.

Peeta grabbed a carafe of coffee for his walk to the bakery as I was collecting my hunting gear by the front door. Hand-in-hand, we walked out the house and down the street together wordlessly.

The sun was just rising, coating the dirt path in front of our feet with shiny dawn light and highlighting the dew on the grass. The air was still and chilly, and birds noisily talked to each other while our footsteps—his heavy, mine light—marched down the road in sync. Our arms comfortably swayed back and forth with our unhurried pace. When the time ultimately came for me to part ways with Peeta, he pressed his lips against mine in farewell, giving me the now-recognizable feeling of desire for him. Though early in the day, my body knew what it wanted. I hadn't given in yesterday, so I was winning the little game I was playing with myself. I had been good, so maybe this evening we could…I don't know what we could do, but we could do _something_.

"Have a good day," Peeta said gently against my mouth as we gave one another quick staccato kisses in lieu of breaking apart.

"You too," I said before I finally let go of his hands and ventured out into the forest. "See you later."

The forest was loud with activity as the sky lightened bit by bit. I felt lazy that I never got up this early. It made the entire day seem so much better to be up with the sun. Maybe I would make a habit out of it…

My morning was eventful, and by early afternoon I already had almost enough meat to pay Sae completely back. I happily made my way back to town, almost skipping as I approached the fence with the midday sun shining brightly on my relaxed face. My mind was in another place entirely, and I almost ran face-first into the twenty-foot tall boundary before I quickly halted. I never paid much mind to entering and exiting the woods because I never had to think about the fence I was touching. Now, however, a steady buzzing came from its wires, and I knew I was in trouble.

_Shit. _The fence was hardly ever electrified, and if it was, I normally could just hunt for a while longer and it would be off again by the time I got back. I impatiently paced the length of the fence, back and forth and back and forth. I didn't have the time to just wait around right now, and I didn't know what to do.

I wildly looked around. There was nothing I could think of that I could hoist myself over the fence with…nothing I could use to stand on and then jump over…and no trees close enough to jump or swing out of. I had only one option that would work, and I begrudgingly went back into the forest to collect thick twigs and branches to use as my tools. I'd have to dig my way out.

I threw my quiver and bag full of dead animals over the fence and sat down to get to work. Using thick sections of tree-limbs, I stabbed the earth underneath the fence and scraped the dirt out of the way to make a giant hole. I scraped and scraped and even used my fingers and shoes to dig and move dirt out of the way. I just needed a wide enough area for me to slither under, and I was relatively little, but the dirt was hard and not soft. I stayed focused on my task but was pissed off that I had to do this because I knew it would take forever.

It ended up taking just over an hour and a half to dig a hole deep and wide enough under the fence that I could successfully slide my body out. The mountain clay was tough, and my muscles hurt from the force of what I was doing. From where it had rained last night, everything was damp and muddy, and that got all over my clothes. Soon my hands began to blister, and I was sticky and wet with sweat from where the afternoon sun pestered me. My mood for the day was ruined. I didn't even want to go to see Prim anymore.

My thoughts didn't revolve around getting electrocuted while I was sliding under the wires; I was more expecting the fence to turn off right when I was down there. It didn't, so at least I felt like all of my hard work was worth something as I got up and tried to scrape mud off myself. I was mildly excited to have that behind me, but then I had to put in an effort to make it look like nobody had been there. I swept all the dirt and mud back in the hole and patted it down, but it was impossible to make it look like it hadn't been dug up. Oh, well. I picked up my gear and headed to the Hob.


	12. Chapter 12

**Peeta's POV**

Katniss was preoccupied and in a bad mood when she came home later in the afternoon. I was feeling utterly dejected myself, so our moods coincidentally matched.

The entire day had been horrible, and I came home as a shell of myself, hollow on the inside because I let my emotions just leave my body. Sometimes I feared I would have a breakdown… I'd been trapped in this cycle of submission and insecurity for just about my entire life, though, so I was good at separating the true me from the image that the majority of my family saw. I just completely escaped to another place whenever really bad fights happened with my mom, and then I merely went through the motions of normality until I felt the feelings pass. I knew it was unhealthy, but I was a part of a dysfunctional family…it was only fitting that I was dysfunctional, too.

I lay on the couch for an unknown amount of time staring at the living room ceiling, thinking about life questions. I didn't know what I should do. I loved working at the bakery, and everything there had been such a huge part of my life for so long, but if I was being honest with myself, I was beginning to dread it. I hated leaving Katniss every morning and entering a place where nobody even liked my presence, save my father. And he had been so morose lately that it wasn't even like he was his old self anyway. I realized that he probably hated being there just as much as I did. It was a damn shame because he and I both loved the line of work so much, and we were good at it.

It was shocking how much of a negative impact one person could have on a family unit. Why was my mom the way she was? Why did she look down on me so much?

After years of experiencing her hitting me, and sometimes even my brothers and probably my dad too, I came to terms with the fact that nothing would change her. I stood up to her the other day, and that might've been the reason why she didn't bother me for a while after that, but then she went right back to being her old self and lashing out when she got too mad. I knew it would never stop. She was just an awful person. I wondered what exactly made her that way, when it all began…or if she was just born mean. Or mentally ill?

And my brothers were jerks, as well. Deep down inside, I did care for them because at the end of the day, we were all connected by blood. I knew that there was good underneath their layers of malice. The nastiness they showed was their own coping mechanism for dealing with Mom. They were the only family I had, but I still couldn't deny the dislike I felt for them most days. It was sad.

I really had no clue how to fix any of the problems going on. I contemplated quitting. Should I abandon my father right when Will was leaving, or stay and continue to deal with my disgraceful mother? The guilt I'd feel for leaving Dad short-handed would bother me too much, but should I do it anyway? It would mean that I'd get to spend more time with Katniss, and she was the only beacon of light in my life.

I made myself sick sometimes by being such a push-over and always thinking about other people. I didn't even need the money from the job; I only worked there for the customers and my father. Any other person would leave the situation…. Maybe I _should_ just quit. Maybe just for the time being. I didn't know…

My mind was racing, and soon my head started to faintly throb. My face still ached from hours earlier, but after a while, it became numb like the rest of me. I became lost in a sea of self-loathing, hating the fact that I was so weak.

As I continued to mull over every issue I'd ever had again and again in my mind, Katniss stormed inside the front door and dropped her hunting gear loudly on the foyer floor, huffing and scrunching up her face. I watched from the couch where she hadn't noticed I was lying. With the front door wide open, she sat down on the porch and untied her muddy boots, and dirt fell off in clumps as she tugged at them. She was utterly covered in mud—her clothes, boots, and even her hair. Some of the mud looked dry and some still looked thick and wet. I walked from the couch to the porch and looked down at her frustratingly ripping off her shoes and jacket.

"Katniss, what happened?" I asked in concern, my own selfish thoughts vanishing quickly as I took in her appearance.

Her face was agitated as she looked up at me. "They fucking turned the fence on," she said.

Oh, no. I examined her more closely and drew a conclusion. "So you had to crawl out?" She curtly nodded. Her grey eyes looked troubled under furrowed, angry brows. I could tell she was trying to stand up, so I offered my hand to assist her, but she didn't pay attention to it. She stood up by herself even though she struggled greatly. All the caked-on mud had made her pants rigid, so moving seemed to be a big effort for her.

Katniss was an enigma sometimes. At times she'd accept help, and at other times she seemed hell-bent on doing everything by herself. I understood that she didn't like to be dependent on people…I got that. I knew the reasons why. But I would keep trying until the day I die to get her to see that accepting help is not a weakness, especially if it was just coming from me. I wanted to be the one to help her when she needed it. I didn't want to be chauvinistic, but I guess I was a little old-fashioned…I liked the idea of taking care of her. Even though I knew she could very well take care of herself, I just wanted to help her out and treat her like she deserved to be treated. To spoil her, I guess. To please her. I could only hope that one of these days she'd let me. I let the rejected feelings that temporarily crossed my mind pass as I tried to make light conversation with her.

"I thought they never turned the fence on?" I knew it was _supposed_ to be on, and that people were always afraid of it being on and what was on the other side of it and everything, but I also knew the district had to save electricity. And Katniss hunted for years, so I figured it was mostly for looks.

She shrugged. "Sometimes they do." Her face was wrinkled in anger, and I didn't really know what to do to help. I didn't want to annoy her by asking her too many questions. I just felt really bad for her. She had clearly had a terrible day.

"Well, come on inside," I suggested. "We can get you out of those clothes…take a bath and relax or something." She nodded and trudged upstairs without speaking. I followed her all the way into the bathroom where she was failing at her attempt to take off her shirt and pants. Everything she wore was inflexible. I walked in the room to see her shirt stuck over her head as her arms flailed around underneath it trying to pull it off. Her midriff and bra were bared as she hunched her back over to try to yank the shirt out of her arms and over her head.

"Fuck _DAMMIT_!" She yelled, muffled, as she aimlessly moved around the room and ended up backed against the wall. _Fuck dammit_?…I almost laughed at her interesting choice of curse words, but I felt too bad for her. I could hear her frustrated breathing and could easily tell by her body language that she was an emotional wreck.

"Let me help you, Katniss," I said quietly. As she noticed she was against the wall now, she slid down and sat down on the tile and loudly released a breath. She succeeded in dropping her arms so that she was wearing her shirt properly again and stared out into space. Her expression was vacant, her eyes somewhere else. She almost looked like she was going to cry, but I could have been imagining that.

I crouched down to her level to the best of my ability. "Katniss," I repeated, "can I help you?" She blinked a few times and pulled herself up the wall with a little difficulty before looking in my eyes. She barely moved her head, but I noticed the slight nod she was attempting to make, and I proceeded to help her out of her clothes. It took quite a while, but eventually I got her shirt off. I had to ask her to sit back down on the tile so I could pull her pants off from the hem to get them over her thighs and down her legs. She kicked her legs to help me along, and when she was in her underwear, I started to draw a bath for her, eventually adding bubble bath stuff to make it nice. "You're good to go," I told her and began to walk out the bathroom to give her privacy to fully undress and bathe in peace.

"I thought you were going to stay," she said just as I was stepping into my room. I turned around and opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"It's whatever you want," I finally said, internally delighting at the idea of bathing with Katniss but not wanting to push anything on her too fast. How would bathing together even work? The bath wasn't overly large, but when we showered together, the two shower-heads at least gave us the idea of having our own space. The bath itself was big enough if one person was in it, but two people might be awfully snug…and maybe awkward. At least for me, because if I got turned on, which I knew I was bound to, it would be horrifying. Depending on how she'd be stationed, she might be able to feel my arousal. I was still weird about having her feel it…because what if she didn't like that kind of reaction from me at that particular moment? What if she thought I was being presumptuous and disrespectful or something? It wasn't like I could control my erections…or just will them to go away…

It had been a while since I had done anything to relieve myself, and now I could tell that I was feeling something in my pants just by thinking about the idea of a bath with Katniss.…I couldn't help it; jerking off was something that I just had to do to be able to function normally, and I hadn't done it in a while. I used to think that guys would just say that as an excuse to pressure their girlfriends or something—that they _had_ to cum—but it was actually true that guys had to ejaculate regularly… at least for me…Back in the days when I'd feel guilty about touching myself, I would force myself to not do it, and every morning without fail, I'd wake up to wet and sticky sheets.

As I was trying to think of anything but Katniss naked and pressed against me in the tub, Katniss' weary voice spoke out. "It's fine," she told me, taking my silence as denial. "The water's just going to be all muddy anyway."

"No, no!" I said awkwardly. "I want to." I regained my composure and quickly switched the bath to a shower. "We can hop in the shower first and then get in the bath, how's that?" I smiled so she'd feel more comfortable. I feared I was being weird. Showering together had become a ritual of togetherness, more about comfort than anything sexual. And I was making it sexual, and it shouldn't have to be that way. I should be happy enough that she'd even want to continue doing this kind of thing with me, _naked_… that she'd expose her flawless body to my voyeuristic eyes time and time again and even allow me to witness her beauty.

The corners of her mouth twitched somewhat and she stripped the remainder of her clothes before stepping into the shower. I just barely saw her tan and lean back as she swiftly closed the curtain behind her. I hastily undressed and joined her. Not being too messy today because of my absence from actually baking, I didn't have to wash too much, so I first watched Katniss scrub her skin and wash her hair. She was oblivious to my stares, though, which was for the best, because I wasn't thinking very pure things. My horniness was taking control of my thoughts, and I could feel my dick slowly beginning to swell. Viewing Katniss' hands lather soap all along her skin was taking me to another place entirely. I was an idiot for withholding masturbation for this long. This is what happened…I became a raunchy perv. She was just _so_ sexy. Too sexy.

I had to turn away to wash my body, too, so I'd stop fantasizing. I looked down and saw that my dick was hanging enlarged… I had to have the willpower to maintain this state of arousal so I wouldn't turn around and scare her to death with a full hard-on. It crossed my mind that she'd never seen me with an erection. _Felt_ it through clothes, yes, but not seen it. I had to be mindful of that. I didn't want her to be completely freaked out. I didn't know if it would scare her…

I managed to wash off while successfully thinking of all types of other boring things besides Katniss. When she turned off the showerheads to fill up the tub for our bath, I briefly contemplated how I was going to sit. The faucet was in the middle of the tub, so technically, I could rest my back on one end and Katniss could rest hers at the other. I went ahead and sat down, and Katniss followed my example. I caught her eyes flutter to my penis as I bent my legs, but she quickly looked away. I had more going on down there than she did and I guess she wanted to examine it but was too embarrassed to be caught staring…Maybe? Maybe she just noticed it was bigger than normal. Not that I was normally small or anything, but I wasn't overly large either…I mean, I was a good size…Anyway, I was definitely turned on, and she probably picked up on that.

"Maybe…" she looked towards the wall, "maybe later on we can..do some more of what we did the other night." Oh, wow. So she was thinking along the same lines I was, yet again, even though she was being shy about it. We strangely always were turned on at the same times, like when I came home the other night with a boner and she was basically all over me right when I walked in the door. I tried not to think of the memory too intently lest I get carried away.

"No pressure," I said, holding up my hands. "Really."

"I know," she said, turning her head back to look at me. I loved that I was starting to know her so well that I could read her expressions…she was telling me to stop being silly with just a look. I smiled excitedly. Tonight had the potential to be special.

"That sounds great," I uttered sincerely, even though it sounded kind of awkward. I guess we were a little awkward, though. We _were_ both virgins, after all.

As the water loudly filled the tub, Katniss and I stretched out our legs so that hers were resting atop mine. The bubbles that had filled the tub made her feel at ease enough to spread her legs on either side of my waist while mine stayed against the bottom of the tub. I began to rub her feet and she closed her eyes as her head fell back against the edge of the tub. She groaned contentedly, and I hoped I was helping her alleviate the stress from her bad day. With strong baker's hands I continued to massage her tired feet and her face looked relaxed as she opened her eyelids to softly smile at me.

"Are you feeling any better?" I asked tenderly. She nodded. "Good," I responded.

"Thanks," she told me as she closed her eyes again.

Curiously, I asked, "For what?"

"Caring," she replied simply.

"..Of course," I said, moving my hands from her feet to softly rub her calves.

"Makes me forget about my shitty day."

After silently soaking together for a few minutes, Katniss apparently wanted me to stop massaging her and pulled her legs out of the hold of my hands. She put them together and entwined them both on my right side as she leaned further down in the water. It reminded me of a pretzel because we were all tangled up in each other, but twisting around was the only way to really get under the water.

In a short amount of time, Katniss seemed to be back to her normal self. "How's your face today?" she asked me, looking at my swollen cheek and eye. I shrugged in response, not wanting to talk about how it was hurting basically more than yesterday because of added injuries. Not wanting to talk about how those injuries were added in the first place. I looked slightly to the right so she wouldn't see the marks on that side of my cheek if there were any, but she was keen and noticed what I was doing.

Her eyes narrowed as she sat up a bit and inspected my face. "Peeta," she called out to me.

"Hm?" I asked softly, not looking up. I knew what this was about. She had seen. And now I had to talk about it, and now any arousal I had been feeling deflated.

"Look at me," she gently ordered. I had wanted to forget about the incident with my mother today, but Katniss had spotted the evidence. I reluctantly looked at her, but I kept a normal face. "It's not a b—"

"You're hurt again," she interrupted. "That wasn't there this morning," she pointed at my right cheek. "Did you and Ryan have another fight?" she asked me with a slight grimace on her face. She really didn't need to worry about me. This had been going on for my entire life. I was just normally much better at hiding it.

"No, we didn't even talk today," I answered evasively. She stared at my face expecting a longer explanation, but I didn't want to talk about it anymore and lowered myself further into the tub, awkwardly bending my knees to the side to do so. Katniss did want to keep talking about it, however, and she wouldn't let me drop the topic that easily.

"Your mom, then," she said without questioning. She just knew. I didn't answer or nod, but Katniss knew. She instantly became incensed and raised her voice. "What the hell, Peeta? What's her problem? Why did she do this to you?" I still didn't answer, so Katniss continued more adamantly. My face must have looked pretty bad, then. "Peeta, you need to do something about her. What gives her the right to treat you like this and no one else? And get away with it? What have you even done?"

I laughed mordantly. "Existed, I guess. Breathed in the same air that she did." Katniss didn't think it was funny, so I stopped putting on a front and became serious. "She just doesn't like me, Katniss. Never has," I said pathetically.

"So? That doesn't give her the right to hit you! You're her _son_," she said strongly. "You should fight back or something!"

"Look, Katniss, I'm not that guy. I'm not going to hit a woman," I told her, maybe a little meaner than I intended to. I just didn't like talking about this.

"I know that," she countered. "And I didn't say you should. But why do you let her….let her _abuse_ you like this?"

"It's not like I just _let_ her, Katniss! She just does!" I said, raising my voice a little more to match hers. She just didn't understand, and I couldn't explain it to her. "Do you think I haven't tried to stop this before?"

"Well, she needs to see that she can't just do this to you and get away with it!"

"Look, it's _fine_—" I started to say, but Katniss was unwavering about her endeavor to punish my mother for slapping me today.

"It's_ not_ fine," she retorted. "I know she's a bitch, and I know she's hit you for a long, long time, but it can't go on! It's not right!"

I ran my hands through my wet hair and sighed heavily. "Katniss, my whole family already thinks I've gone bat-shit crazy because of the Games." I started to count off incidents on my fingers. "First I break a rolling pin the other day when Mom tried to hit me, then I lash out at Ryan yesterday and now his entire apron is blood-stained because of me, so if I would've done something today to retaliate, they probably would send me away to an institution or something." My hands waved around in the air for emphasis, and soon Katniss' were too.

"That's ridiculous—no, they wouldn't. If anything, they should be the ones locked up," Katniss said, obviously angrier at this injustice than I was. I was just too good at pushing this stuff deep down inside. After years of it, a person just becomes numb. Katniss' eyes lit up after she initially spoke and she asked, "Wait, what? What rolling pin? You didn't tell me anything about a rolling pin… Your mom tried to hit you _another _time?"

"Katniss, I told you, it happens all the time. She's crazy," I explained.

"Why didn't you tell me? ..That's not an excuse."

"I know. I know." I sighed again. "Look, I'll do something about it," I reasoned. "I don't know what I can do that I haven't already done, but I'll do something, okay? I promise."

"Peeta," she said exasperatedly, then paused. She couldn't get any words out so her open mouth clamped shut. I stared at her until she spoke again. "It's like you've just accepted this as normal, Peeta. It's not. And you can do something about it."

I retorted, "I just said I'll do something about it."

"Yeah, but will you?" she asked. "Will you really?"

I threw my hands in the air, and the water splashed at the sudden movement. "This is ridiculous! Does _anybody_ in this godforsaken _world_ have _any_ faith in me?" I knew I shouldn't be talking to her like this, I knew it, but I didn't feel in control at the moment.

"I do!" she immediately countered. "You have to know that, Peeta! I _do_. That's why I can't stand to see you come home like this. You try to hide it, but I know it's killing you on the inside."

I reached out and put my hand over hers. I was being a jerk to her, and she was just trying to make me feel better. I caressed the top of her hand with my thumb for a long time while considering all of my family problems and regaining my sense of calm from earlier. She spoke again to break the silence. "I can help you with your mom, if you want me to," she offered.

"No," I immediately responded in a stern voice, "I don't want you anywhere near my mother." Mom kind of hated any connection with the Seam, and though at first she seemed amazed at Katniss' abilities in the arena, she soon began to loathe Katniss' success because it made her think of Dad's relationship with her mom. Katniss' eyes became distant again, like I was turning down her suggestions, so I quickly fixed that.

"Come here," I motioned, reaching out my arms. "Lay back between my legs." She looked at me for a minute, and I was about to say I wasn't going to do anything funny if that's what she was worried about—because any semblance of an erection was long gone by now anyway at the long chat about my mother—but she silently turned around and backed her body up to lay against my chest. The water sloshed around for a few seconds from her motions before settling again. I wrapped my arms around her body and entwined my fingers with hers, resting them together on her stomach. Her head fell back to rest on my chest with a contended sigh, and we soaked in the water in silence for a very long time. My thoughts were so loud I could almost hear them in the room, and I could tell Katniss' brain was working hard, too.

"I'm sorry for being rude just now," I whispered in her ear. "Just please don't worry about me, sweetie. I'll be okay, really."

She eventually sighed. "You're so brave and strong, Peeta. I don't get it. I just don't get it." We both sat quietly for a long time because I had no response to that. It made me feel like I couldn't live up to her expectations. I really wasn't this god among men like she thought I was, even if I had won the Hunger Games.

"I'm just a regular guy who happened to win the Hunger Games because of circumstances and luck and you," I said in response.

"And same for me, Peeta," she sighed. I didn't respond. I didn't want to keep arguing with her—I hated this. But I could come back with so many different things: she was the sole provider for her family for years, breaking the law and withstanding harsh conditions just to put food on the table. And she deserved to win the games; I didn't. I should have died.

I kissed her neck and softly stroked her stomach with my fingertips to dissolve the slight tension that had been built. I felt bad that I couldn't make this situation any better, so I soothed her with my touch.

When she finally said something again, it was a lot more controlled than her earlier verbal assault had been, but I could tell she was still peeved with me. "I think that you think more about other people than you do about your own self," she said. "You should look out for yourself before you put other people before you."

Her advice was nice, but it wasn't that easy for me. I sighed, and the movement moved her body with mine. "I like making other people happy," I said stubbornly.

"I know you do, Peeta," she said gently, turning her hands in mine and squeezing them. "And you do a good job at it. But you can't make everyone happy all the time. You have to realize that some people will just never be pleased, and it has nothing to do with you at all."

I was soundless for a long time while her words sunk in. "It's just hard," I finally admitted, addressing the point at hand. "They're the only family I have…and they all hate me no matter how hard I try."

She turned her body a bit so her left side was resting against mine. I felt the soft springiness of her breasts against my ribs. I kept my arms around her, and she turned her head up to look at mine as she reacted to my words. She looked sorry for me, and I didn't want that. I would be fine. I had just had a rough day.

"They don't hate you," she rebutted. I raised my eyebrows like I was asking her, "wanna bet?" and she became determined to convince me differently. "Look, I'm an outsider. Can I tell you what I think?" I nodded. "I think they're jealous of you," she said simply. I laughed. "Really, I really think they are. Especially your brothers."

"My brothers _do _hate me. They despise me, actually," I told her.

"No, they don't." She looked thoughtful and ensued to list off my positive traits. "You came out of the arena alive when they all underestimated how tough and fearless you are. You're technically 'famous' now, even if it's for horrible reasons. Everyone knows your name. You get more praise at the bakery because you're more talented than both of them. You… have a girl living with you," she said as her cheeks got a little darker, "and…and you're better looking than they are," she finished.

"Nice try," I said sarcastically but smiled at her anyway.

"It's true!" she rebutted. "Honestly, I see the way they look at you. They wish they were like you."

"They wish that they were covered in scars and that their mom smacked them around?"

"They wish that their mom gave them attention," she said. "_Or_ their dad."

That was actually true. Dad thought I was the best in the bakery, and mom's negative attention was all the attention I got, but Ryan and Will hardly got any attention period. "Okay, well, even if that is true, how could my own _parents_ be jealous of me?"

She was quiet for a minute then answered. "Your parents…" she seemed to have difficulty with phrasing something. "Your parents see you happy because you're with me," she finished quietly and slightly shrugged her shoulders.

"And?" I prodded.

"And…well, they're not exactly the happiest couple in the district, are they?" she said, looking a little guilty for being so blunt. But she was exactly right. She was on to something…

I answered her question. "No, they can't stand each other."

"See?" she said as if everything was that simple. And to an extent, it was. My whole family was just unhappy because they saw _me_ being happy. And they just wanted to drag me down to their own level. And Katniss was right; I was kind of allowing it to happen.

"Baby, you could be right and everything, but that doesn't change anything," I said, feeling suddenly defeated. Like I was thinking earlier, nothing was ever going to change. It had been like that for sixteen years. What could one person do?

"Maybe if you just keep thinking about how miserable they are when you're there at the bakery, you can tell yourself that they're only that way because they're unhappy, and then you can spread cheer like you usually do," she suggested.

"Spread cheer?" I chuckled at her.

"Whatever," she said defensively. "I just meant that you could just be your normal happy and funny self and maybe it would make a small difference, not letting them get to you."

"You know, you're surprisingly good at giving advice," I noted as I kissed the top of her head. "How do you know so much about my family?"

"Selling and trading stuff with your dad over the years…I noticed a lot of things," she said simply.

"Hm," I responded. I wondered how much she had noticed during her trips to the bakery. I wondered why she'd even want to be with someone like me after discovering how decayed my family was. She had a sister that she loved and who loved her back, and a mother that had so fiercely loved a man that, after his absence, she became unidentifiable as a person. But even after all of that, Katniss' mom still loved her children; she was just depressed. I had a psychotic mother that didn't know the definition of the word love. Or the word family. I envisioned how different life would be if my mom weren't around, as horrible as that thought was.

After a few uncomfortable moments passed, Katniss began to run her fingers through the slight expanse of hair on my chest. I loved when she did that; it was comforting. My anxiety quickly left as I relaxed under her nurturance.

My chest hair was a little darker and curlier than the hair on my head, and because the bubbles in the bath had almost completely dissolved by now, the darker hair trailing down my stomach became visible, too. Also, my pubic hair was blurry yet discernible through the murky water, and I saw Katniss shift her gaze from my chest to the space between my legs. I wasn't ashamed to be naked with her or to have her examine my body—I liked that she got to see me in an honest way. I wasn't a Capitol model or anything, and I had tons of bodily flaws, but this way, she got to see me how I was. I was offering all of it, if she'd accept it.

The Capitol had trimmed a lot of my body hair before the Hunger Games, but I refused to let them remove all of my pubic hair like they had with other male tributes. I personally liked it…It wasn't like I looked like a caveman or anything, but something about it made me feel more…manly? I hoped Katniss liked it, too. Well, I hoped she liked all of me. I think she did.

"You know," she said, tracing her index finger along my chest and lowering her voice, "you've touched me a lot of times…and I've never touched you." Her fingers ran a path down, down, down the trail of hair over my abdomen, and I knew what she was referring to. Her silvery eyes met mine before watching her own fingers run along my stomach again. I didn't know how to respond to her words as all the desirous feelings from earlier came back in an instant. In a rush, blinding heat and butterflies filled the bottom of my stomach as I took in the meaning of her words: she wanted to touch me there, the place that I had touched myself for years imagining that my hand was hers.

"Well, I like touching you," I whispered back at her. "Quite a bit." The arm I had wrapped around her pulled her in closer to me as I touched her hip, playing with the bone jutting out as a result of her sideways position. The mood between us magically shifted from apprehensive to yearning, just from a few phrases. All thoughts of our earlier scuffle, if that's what it was, dissipated as lustful feelings took their place.

"I like it, too," she murmured. "But…I want to make you feel good, too…like you do to me." Her eyes met mine again, and I was sure mine darkened as I viewed the look of pure devotion on her face. My left hand slowly and lightly cupped her face, and I leaned closer to her to press my lips to hers. She moved her hand from my stomach to grasp my neck, deepening the kiss. The movements of her mouth were eager and speedy, like her thirst for me was unquenchable. She was moving too hurried for my liking, but it was having a quick effect on me. Anything Katniss did affected me, really. I was losing the ability to think clearly as we moved our tongues against one another, and I willed myself to drastically slow the pace. I sucked on her tongue slowly, savoring the taste of her mouth, wanting to be connected to her like this forever. Her nails dug into the skin of my neck in response, and she whimpered lightly as I took her bottom lip in my mouth and sucked it lightly, too.

She moved her right leg to rest between the two of mine as she pressed her body on top of me, never stopping our kiss. I indistinctly felt the folds between her legs as she moved against my upper leg, and I dropped both of my hands to her ass, forcing her even closer while firmly kneading her full backside. She melted in my arms, slackly resting her body against me, and breathily moaned as the pressure from my hands grinding her against my leg brought her pleasure.

"God, I love the way you feel against me," I mumbled against her lips, slowly licking her bottom lip with my tongue.

"Ugnnh," she lengthily moaned, sending a direct jolt of pleasure to my cock. She smiled slightly at the involuntary sounds she didn't mean to emit, but for once she didn't seem embarrassed. I groaned softly in response to those noises, and, looking down, I noticed I how stiff I had become.

Katniss' hand flattened against my stomach muscles until submerging under the water, further and further down my torso. She brushed her palm against the increasingly swollen flesh between my legs, and I involuntarily jerked my hips, looking at her with shocked eyes. My _God._ She had never touched me before except for the night she had been drinking, and I found it was much, much better like this—with her willing and amenable, lustful and fervent. It was purely erotic.

Then I felt her smooth hand wrapped around me, skin on skin. I hissed in a breath and embarrassingly whimpered.

"Katniss!" I called out as she experimentally stroked me. Holy shit. I quickly removed my lips from hers, leaving her open-mouthed and dazed. I had to stop, or I'd cum in a matter of seconds. I wanted to prolong everything. I needed this to last.

I took her hand in mine and halted her progression. "Katniss," I said after kissing her hand, "let's go slow." I peppered kisses lazily all over her hand, then up her arm. "Really slow. We have all night." She pretended to pout but nodded in agreeance. It seemed she understood that we didn't need to feel rushed. I didn't want this to happen while we were uncomfortably tangled up together in a bathtub. "We're getting all pruney," I added. "Let's get out of this tub.."

She chuckled and sat up. I felt chilly as her body heat left my side. As she stood up, water loudly dripped from her hair and body into the bath. From my lying position in the tub, I tilted my head upwards and saw _the_ most gorgeous view of her body. She ran her hands through her hair and wringed out excess water as I admired her. I'd never get tired of looking at her. Looking down, she smirked and stepped out of the tub, proceeding to dry off. Her exit opened her legs to my gaze for a split second, and I was rewarded with a heart-stopping discovery of her womanhood. I'd never seen her from this angle from below…and it was beautiful. The mystery of it had been driving me crazy, and I wanted to fix that. I just wanted to explore her—feel her completely, smell her, taste her. I drained the bath-tub and stood up to dry off beside Katniss. My hardness jutted out obviously, but I didn't hide it as I looked at Katniss' face.

She smiled at me and coyly walked into the bedroom to sit on the bed. I purposefully walked towards her with a seductive smile, readying myself to lean forward and lay her down on the comforter. Before I got close to her, however, the doorbell rang.

**The next chapter will be fun, so don't be mad about this. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

"Seriously?" Katniss said from the bed, reacting to the ringing of the doorbell with frustration.

I sighed. This always seemed to happen, us getting disrupted by a guest at very pivotal moments. "I'll get it," I soothed her, quickly picking out some clothes to throw on.

"Peeeta…Ignore it," she whined. I contemplated her words as I paused by the dresser, but I didn't know if the visitor was important. I looked at her apologetically and quickly dressed. I painfully tucked my erection in the elastic of my boxer-briefs so it wouldn't be noticeable when I opened the door. After I was done putting clothes on, I walked back to the bed where Katniss was trying to get under the covers.

"Don't hide yourself, Katniss," I implored, pulling back the sheets.

She frowned and snatched the sheet back. "I'm cold," she replied.

"I'll be quick, I swear," I told her, cradling her face to kiss her before going downstairs. I looked deep in her eyes with a promise of what was to come. I wished we weren't interrupted, but she should be assured that it was just a quick detraction from the pleasure I was about to bring her. I'd return in just a minute to warm her back up.

I slowly walked down the stairs and opened the door to be greeted by Haymitch. In his hands were a half-empty mason jar and a mandolin. Whereas I normally would have laughed loudly at the sight, I was visibly agitated as I scrutinized him: he was obviously drunk. Why did he pick the worst times to visit? He wanted to play music or something?

Without even saying hello, Haymitch hollered, "Wooo, what happened to yer face, boy?"

"Allergic reaction," I replied dully. I ran my hand along my neck awkwardly. "Uh..Look, Haymitch, I'm kind of busy right now. Do you want to come over later on for dinner or something?"

"Whatcha busy with?" he said suggestively, wagging his eyebrows and peeking inside. The last time he and I had talked was about my confusion over Katniss' feelings for me. He was probably checking to see if we had figured all that out…the old pervert.

I blocked his line of vision and tried to be as nonchalant as I could as I answered, "I was in the shower." That technically wasn't a lie, and he could clearly see that my hair was still wet. "You wanna come back over for dinner tonight?" I repeated.

He looked amused. "What are y'all havin'?"

"I don't even know yet, but you'll like it." I'd think of something to whip up later on. Right now I didn't really care. I was good at cooking though, and Haymitch knew that. He agreed to the invitation but still didn't move to go back home.

"Where's Katniss?" he asked.

"Upstairs," I answered vaguely. He stared at me with a smirk, but I ignored it as I tried to make his exit for him, "So? Tonight? Around seven?"

He took a drink from his jar and nodded, finally turning to walk back to his house.

"Heehee," he laughed, scratching his belly and leaving the porch. That was easy enough, though now he probably knew what Katniss and I were actually up to. Whatever…he could think what he wanted to think. I didn't care.

I quickly walked back up the stairs and was met by Katniss at the entryway to our bedroom. She had hastily threw on some clothes herself and looked like she was fixing to come down the stairs, too.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" I asked her as I approached the threshold of the door.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know...I felt weird just lying there naked."

I motioned for her to turn around to get back on the bed where I had expected her to wait for me. Instead of turning around, she grinned and wrapped her arms around my neck, and I dropped my hands to her hips and backed her up to the edge of the bed while we resumed kissing. When the back of her legs met the bed, she sat down and scooted herself back to rest her head against the pillows.

I followed her path and crawled over her, touching every inch of exposed skin I could on my journey back to her mouth. Lying beside her, I took a moment to adore her face before halfway covering us with the blanket. "You should never feel weird naked," I told her as I lifted the shirt off of her and carelessly threw it on the carpet. She had taken the time to put on a bra, and though I had just seen her naked breasts, the sight of them covered and spilling out of the garment was such a turn-on. I tore my t-shirt off of my back and threw it to meet hers on the floor, still watching her chest rise and fall with her breathing.

"If I were you, I'd be naked all the time, around a lot of mirrors," I said, and she rolled her eyes but chuckled.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before reaching out to caress my face gently. I still hadn't taken the time to examine my injuries from earlier today, but they were forgotten now as Katniss and I shut out the world. We melted into the warmth of the bed and reveled in embracing one another yet again.

Her touch felt warm and soft, and I responded to her attention with a small smile and a sigh. As she caressed my cheek and jaw with pleasing touches, she looked in my eyes as an intense yet delicate expression filled her own. As I took in their cloudy depths, I discovered what the term "bedroom eyes" meant. Just this one look from her sent any possible remaining blood in my brain southward, and I knew I had to claim her mouth again. I fiercely took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. She instantly responded by opening her mouth to me, and our tongues were where they belonged again.

Her full lips and her hot, wet tongue moved against mine like we were made for this. We were made for kissing each other—it was heaven. We had had a lot of practice lately, and we had perfected this act. I knew what she liked, and she knew what I liked, and our mouths were two puzzle pieces that moved and fit together skillfully. These kisses were different than before…it normally felt eager and desperate, like there was never enough time. Now, we had all the time in the world.

We tenderly kissed and cuddled for about ten minutes before I could sense her impatience beside me. She wiggled and clenched at the skin on my back, even lightly pulling my hair. Time and time again she tried to speed everything up, but I was determined to lengthen this act, to draw out this precious time with her.

I smirked and bit her bottom lip as she whimpered into my mouth. "Slow, remember?" I teased. With her bottom lip still in my mouth, I gently sucked, one of my new favorite things to do. "You agreed…" She looked petulant as her hand gripped and pulled my waist closer to her. I finally succumbed to her needs and rolled my body to lie atop hers. Automatically, she opened her legs so I could settle against her in the closest way possible, and Katniss rewarded me with a contented moan.

"I love seeing you like this underneath me," I whispered as I lowered my lips to reconnect with hers again. "All hot and desperate…" She responded with a coy look. I loved how dominate she was in every-day situations, but here in bed—one-on-one—she submitted willingly to what we were doing. It was like we both switched personas when we engaged in these acts.

I rested my weight on my forearms, holding the back of Katniss' head with my hands as our lips slowly started to move together again. I began to gingerly press my jeans into the thin shorts Katniss had put on, finally easing some of the need she was feeling underneath me as she felt the hard contact of my dick at the apex of her thighs. We both moaned simultaneously as I leisurely and deeply ground my hips into hers.

The room was quiet except for our heavy breathing and soft kissing. Katniss began to occasionally make soft noises from the back of her throat, prompting me to remove my lips from hers and suck on her neck where those sexy sounds were coming from. I had done this a few times already so I knew exactly what she liked me to do and where she wanted me to do it. I passionately and rhythmically moved my hips against her as I softly bit, licked, and sucked the skin of her neck, moving my right hand to caress her stomach.

"Ahh," she throatily moaned underneath me. I languidly lifted my head to watch her face as I continued to press my dick against the area between her legs. If this alone brought both of us this much enjoyment, I couldn't wait until the real thing…me actually moving inside of her instead of against her…

Katniss' hands and fingers wildly ran up and down my back and arms until she settled one in my hair and one clutching the bed sheet, and I forced myself to decrease the speed of my movements as my mouth revisited her neck. This was supposed to be slow, had to be slow. This was different than the other times.

On the carpet at her house, I felt slightly disconnected because I knew Katniss had just had a nightmare and wanted some form of comfort. It was incredible, but I wasn't sure where her mind was at that exact moment. On the couch downstairs in the living room, Katniss and I were ravishing each other in a quick moment of mutual need and attraction, and that was incredible, too, but frantic. Both times were sexy as hell, but this…This was in my bed like it was supposed to be, and Katniss and I didn't have to feel rushed. We had tons of time to stay in bed together and adore one another.

I saw a vague dark pinkish mark starting to form where I had just been latched onto her neck, and I dropped my mouth back onto the spot, possessively sucking harder. She moaned loudly at that, and I swelled with pride that I was making her feel this good. My left forearm was holding most of my weight, so with my right hand I lightly and purposefully caressed the skin from her thigh to the side of her breast. She wiggled as I inched up more and more, tickling her. I smiled against her neck then backed up to worship her with both hands now.

I held her covered breasts in both of my hands, softly squeezing and running my thumbs along them. Her black bra was lacy and was hypnotizing me. I was mesmerized by the look of my hands holding her in this way, but I knew I wanted the bra off. I gently moved my hand behind her back and struggled to unclasp her bra. After a few moments of me failing at my attempt, Katniss reached her hands behind her, and I watched in amazement as she immediately undid the clasp and threw her bra away from her.

I warmly kissed her before again leaving to kiss her jaw and neck. Placing large open-mouthed kisses along her clavicle and shoulder, I snaked both of my hands under her breasts that she had bared for me and only me. My hands cradled and massaged them, and I couldn't help but gawk as I slightly pushed them together, continuing to slightly squeeze. I had never seen anything so beautiful, so completely round and perfect. I had been lucky enough to see them in the shower many times, but never before had I had the chance to adore them in this way, this close up.

My face lowered to her left breast and I nuzzled it with my nose before kissing it all over. I looked up to meet her eyes, hoping she was okay with this. She was watching my actions in what looked like surprise, her mouth dropped open and her face relaxed, eyes droopy. I tried to convey all of my love for her in my returning look, but I feared it wouldn't be enough.

"You're beautiful," I said huskily, my mouth still against her breast. "So beautiful, baby." If the light in the room had been brighter, I would have been able to see her adorable blushing cheeks at my words and this situation, but imagining the sight alone made me smile.

Her nipples were pink and hard, and I experimentally stuck out my tongue to lick her left one.

"Peeta!" she exclaimed in a whimper. I continued to caress her right breast and used my thumb to tease that nipple while my mouth and tongue worked the left one. This was so erotic. She was so, so hot.

Soon she began pushing her body up to mine with frustrated little noises like she wanted me to continue doing what I was earlier doing with my hips. The sensation in my pants was suddenly unbearably strong, and I really wanted to get out of my jeans. Very, very slowly I removed my mouth from her breast and backed my body from hers. I looked deep in her eyes as I began to unbutton my jeans. If she wanted to protest, I was giving her plenty of opportunity. I knew we had just recently been naked in the tub together, but she had the right to change her mind. It seemed she wanted me to continue, however.

Her eyes just looked back at me excitedly, glinting in the light coming in through the window. As I carefully unzipped my pants, I felt like no one else in the world existed. It was just me and her, alone in this moment, and somehow, even though we'd undressed next to each other in the bathroom a few times and had just literally been lying naked together, this sole act of sliding down my pants seemed important and relationship-changing.

I kicked off my pants awkwardly and settled back between her legs. The sensation of being closer to her without all the layers of clothing made me roll my eyes into the back of my head and groan.

"Katniss…" I breathed out, again lowering myself to her mouth. We resumed softly rubbing against each other as we made out. When I could literally feel the heat coming from her shorts, I moved my fingers to divest her of them. Her legs moved as she slid them off of her, but they quickly assumed their earlier spread position around my waist. I was met by an undeniable need to explore her down there and broke our kiss to instead trail kisses down her body.

"I love your stomach," I whispered loudly enough for her to hear. "I love every inch of your body."

I flattened my tongue to lick up her navel to the area in between her breasts, watching her face vigilantly for any sign of resistance. Her breasts heaved under my mouth, and with my heart beating wildly in my chest, I softly bit her nipple. She quietly emitted a drawn-out moan and turned her head to the side, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted.

"It makes me so happy to hear you moan, baby," I grunted. I then realized that maybe I should shut up. Maybe I sounded stupid, maybe she wanted me to stop. "Sorry…I'm talking too much," I uttered, peppering kisses in between her breasts and down her stomach again.

"What if I like it?" she whispered brazenly. "When you talk like that?"

_God._ My blue eyes darted to meet her deep grey ones. "Oh, do you?" I asked flirtatiously, but internally disbelievingly. I knew Katniss very well, but there was still so much I had to find out about her…what she liked the most during moments like this, for example. I struggled with the thought of wanting to bring her pleasure while not taking things too fast and freaking her out. I really liked the speed at which we were going, and I think Katniss did, too. Us slowly experimenting and testing out the waters was going great so far…but I still wanted more. I had to savor her. I bunched the covers to the side of the mattress and bared all of Katniss to my eyes again.

I lowered myself again and licked the area above her panties, left to right, then moved down to kiss her legs. For the time being, I passed over the covered area between her legs that was becoming progressively and noticeably damper. I picked up one of her legs, laying kisses all over it. As I reached her upper thigh, she began to whimper.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered against her skin. "Absolutely perfect." She rolled her eyes, but I could see I flustered her a little. "You. Are. Perfect," I said between kisses, before running my tongue along her inner thigh. Every part of her tasted delicious, and I wanted to discover her more intimately. I lied between her legs again to devour her. I moaned as I breathed in her arousal, and in a very daring move, rolled my face to the front of her panties, pressing a kiss on the swollen, wet patch there. My tongue firmly licked the crease between her legs from the very bottom to the top, and with a firm palm, I held her stomach as she wiggled around. She shuddered and loudly hissed as I licked around her hardened clit.

"Katniss…" I murmured against her skin. "Can I…taste you here?"

"Peeta…" she said reproachfully, softly trying to clamp her legs shut around my face. I slightly backed up and found her hand and squeezed it.

My words were heartfelt as I met her eyes and said, "I promise, if you don't like it, I'll stop."

She looked timid but didn't remove her gaze from mine while she nodded and bit her bottom lip. I loved how she trusted me in times like this…She didn't like to feel vulnerable, but during these close moments, she always willingly allowed me to take the lead.

My eyes moved to her face. She still looked shy yet determined, and, still holding her hand, I moved up her body to affectionately kiss her. I wanted so much to tell her that I loved her, but the words couldn't leave my mouth. I would tell her someday, but for now, I could sure as hell show her. I swiftly lowered myself back to where I wanted to be the most and agonizingly slowly pulled her underwear down and over her knees. I watched my hands as her panties passed her feet, rendering her completely exposed on my bed.

When I looked back at her, I was dumbfounded by what I saw. The tent in my pants almost hurt because of how sexy she looked, legs splayed open, hair wildly covering her face, biting her index finger shyly. I was almost afraid as I lowered myself back to her sex, initially exploring her only with my huge, spellbound eyes. I could see her moistness glistening at the very center of her, and I willed myself to control my breathing. I had to remember what my brothers said to do…I was beginning to panic as the reality of the situation hit me. This was really happening…

"..Peeta?" she asked quietly.

I gulped. I could barely respond to her because my chest was so heavy with emotion and adoration at seeing the most private, intimate part of her. "Katniss…" was all I could moan out as I placed tiny kisses all around her, passionately holding onto her outer thighs with unyielding hands. "You're so wet…"

Another, more assured, version of me took over as I told myself that I couldn't mess this up. I licked from her entrance to her clitoris deeply and repeatedly before settling back at the top where she always liked my fingers to play with. Her hips hitched up as I teasingly kissed and massaged her clit with my tongue. She tasted so amazing.

Finally being this close to her, I moaned as I licked and sucked at her, and Katniss moaned right along with me, minutely moving her hips up to meet every stroke of my tongue. I could feel her legs shaking at either side of my face, and soon she began to twitch restlessly. I looked at up at her face from between her legs and saw both of her hands clutching her stomach, her head lazily fallen to the side, eyes shut, mouth wide open. Though she seemed hesitant at first, it seemed she was enjoying this, after all.

I lifted my left hand from her thigh and held onto her right one, entwining my fingers with hers. Her breathing was ragged and shaky, and soon her left hand clutched my hair to push me down further into her heat as her right hand squeezed mine tighter and tighter. I became confident that I was doing this right and that she was feeling good. I never wanted to stop. This image of Katniss in the throws of passion would forever be engrained in my memory.

"God…oh, God…" she whispered into the pillow. I had to force myself to still my hips because I found that I couldn't stop gyrating them against the bed in response to her moaning.

Experimentally, I slipped my index finger inside of her, and she grunted and opened her eyes widely to look down at me. "Is this okay?" I asked softly against her folds. She nodded. I moved my finger in and out of her before adding another. She was unbelievably tight and wet around my fingers, and I felt her walls clench as I moved my fingers gently within her. I could only imagine what it'd be like if it was actually _me_ inside of her and not just my fingers…How warm she'd be as I was engulfed in her, how connected we'd feel to one another.

It had only been a few seconds before my fingers became too much for her. "Peeta," she breathed out, "can you...just use your mouth?"

"Mmm," I responded, sending vibrations along her slit. I hoped I hadn't hurt her. I removed my fingers and increased the speed of my tongue as I firmly clutched her ass cheek. At that, she cried out, and I flicked my tongue against her as she repeatedly began to grind herself against my mouth.

_God damn_, I thought. She looked so unbelievably sexy losing control like this, completely letting go and just focusing on the satisfaction I was bringing her.

"Shit, Peeta," she called out. "That feels so good." I removed my hand from hers and snaked it around to her ass, pulling her up to my mouth even more with both hands. Her noises became even louder as she started to convulse around my face.

"Please, baby…please," she kept whimpering. My tongue was getting tired, but I never stopped the fervor at which I was moving it against her. She tasted so wonderful, smelt so divine, and looked so desirous writhing underneath me. She pushed hard on my head, and I couldn't breathe for a few seconds as she gutturally cried out expletives into the warm air, grinding for the last time against my face. "Peeta! I…I'm…" With a final jerk of her hips, she backed herself further up the mattress to remove herself from my face. I saw a small damp spot where she had just been lying, and it turned me on so much.

I looked at her face in astonishment at what I had just done to her. Her face looked almost pained as her mouth sucked in huge gulps of air. Her arms fell to either side of her before she rolled over to her side and began to laugh. I inched my way back up to lay next to her and tuck her wild hair behind her ears. I had to wipe off my mouth, but then I kissed her forehead. Her eyes stayed shut as her breathing slowly evened out. She almost looked asleep, but then she spoke. "Good lord," she whispered, still not opening her eyes.

I couldn't help but smirk. That was obviously my first time doing that, and it seemed that I had done an impressive job… I was happy with myself and even happier that I had reduced Katniss to this pile of goo on the bed. She finally opened her eyes and lazily smiled at me, reaching out to trace my lips with her index finger.

"How are you so good at that?" she asked me lightly.

I puckered my lips to pretend to kiss her finger that was still trailing along my mouth. "Am I?" I teased.

She looked shy and answered, "Well…obviously…"

I reached for her waist and pulled her against me. "Well, I'm glad you liked it," I said. "I think it's my new favorite thing to do," I added in a whisper. Her hand left my face and traveled slowly down my chest to rest on the bulge at my crotch. I closed my eyes and sucked in a gulp of air.

Her fingers traveled along the length of me, and her thumb brushed my tip where I was sure liquid had already begun seeping out. I bucked my hips and moaned at the sensation.

"Peeta," she whispered as she removed her fingers from me, leaving me empty, "I've never..." she motioned to my throbbing erection with her head and looked back at my eyes. "I don't really know how…" Her face looked embarrassed as she shrugged her shoulders.

I didn't want to make her feel awkward or like I expected something from her. "It's okay, baby," I said, leaning in to kiss her again, but she shook her head and took my hand in hers.

"I want you to show me," she whispered even lower, "…show me what to do. To make you feel good."

Something in her tone made my heart clench. She was just…perfect beyond perfect. I didn't have any other words to use to describe her...She was everything I'd ever wanted. She was the ideal combination of headstrong and stubborn and shy and innocent. And I was head over heels in love with her.

I lifted my hips up off the mattress and took off my underwear. My dick hadn't been this hard in a long, long time, and it sprung out of my underwear and stood straight up, instantly relieving me of the straining pressure from before. I looked at Katniss with a questioning expression…What did she think of seeing me like this? This close up?

I saw her looking at the side of my thigh, instead. My injury had a huge bandage covering it, and she was examining it before slowly taking in the sight of my hardness.

"You're sure?" I asked. She nodded and took my hand, hers slightly trembling as she held on. I put my hand on top of hers and pulled our interlocked fingers to my mouth so I could kiss her palm.

"Don't be nervous," I told her. "You just do what you did before…in the bath." Looking in her eyes, I felt the very air between us change. Something about this felt different than it had before. It was more than her just "making me feel good."

I moved my head to rest atop my pillow as I laid my body completely horizontally. I took deep breaths to calm myself and gently laid her hand, cupped under mine, over my erection. I immediately drew in a sharp breath as I felt the softness of her hand meet the fleshy skin of my cock for the second time today.

_Good God._ "Oh, baby…" I breathed. She felt so warm, _so_ good, and she hadn't even started moving yet.

Somehow I forced myself to keep my eyes open, but she felt so good wrapped around me that all I wanted to do was to squeeze my eyes shut. I felt like I was going to literally blow up in a thousand shards of ecstasy as I guided her up and down like I liked. After a few pumps, I let my hand drop and turned to look at her face. I was sure I looked silly with my mouth ridiculously open, but I was in awe of her. I pulled her face to mine and openly and wetly kissed her as she relentlessly stroked me.

Her hand felt so good, and within a few seconds, I was arching my hips to meet her thrust for thrust, panting the whole time.

"Katniss!" I groaned, clenching my stomach muscles. I kept my lips pressed to hers but couldn't find the energy to actually kiss her as I felt my balls constrict. "God, Katniss…I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," I hollered, gripping the sheets and squeezing my eyes shut as I convulsed in her hand with a grunt. When I finally re-opened my eyes, I looked down and saw my semen dripping down Katniss' hand and also covering my stomach. I rubbed my face with my hands and quickly found my old forgotten t-shirt on the floor to clean both of us off.

Afterwards, I pulled her towards me to spoon as I came down from my incredible high. I couldn't believe what we had just done. She was so incredible. I had forgotten that I hadn't spoken in minutes, so I kissed her back and spoke carefully against the skin there, "I can't express to you what you mean to me…" My heart clenched again, and I tried not to get too sappy for Katniss' sake. "You drive me crazy," I settled with, nuzzling into her back and squeezing her closer to me. She sighed and lazily responded, "You do, too."

In the afterglow of our orgasms, I pulled the covers back over us, and we took a long nap wrapped up in each other's arms.

**Katniss' POV**

I woke up some time later and felt Peeta's warm breath against my shoulder. I remained wrapped up in his arms as I remembered everything from earlier. I felt so strange, like the world should look different or something after what Peeta and I had just done, but, glancing outside the window, nothing had changed. On the inside, though, I felt _very_ changed. What Peeta and I had just done had altered things between us. It was…frightening really, but I found that I wasn't scared. I was a little nervous because I had never done anything that intense with any other guy before, but Peeta gladly took over, and I was grateful for it.

Soon I felt Peeta stretch and groan against me, and I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion as I felt him hard _again_ near my butt.

"Katniss," he whispered, kissing my shoulder. I closed my eyes and didn't respond. "I know you're awake," he said louder with a smile in his voice. I turned over in his arms and looked at him, smirking.

"Are you really turned on again already?" I asked him jokingly. He looked confused until he looked down and embarrassingly responded, "Oh…Uh, that just happens when I wake up." He reached for his underwear on the side of the bed and quickly slid them on before returning back to my side.

"Guess we should be getting up soon," he said, not making any effort to get out of bed, though.

"Eventually," I told him. I was happy lying there with Peeta. The bed was comfy and warm, and it was one of my favorite places to be. We lay next to each other staring at the ceiling fan for a long time before he spoke.

"Katniss, can I ask you something serious?" I was concerned about what it would be but nodded anyway. "Would you ever consider…having sex with me?"

"No," I deadpanned. His eyes looked terrified, but I snickered. "What are you even asking that for? You should know the answer…" I said.

"I mean, I don't want to assume…" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I just want to know how you feel about it."

"Assume all you want," I replied vaguely. He looked at me in surprise.

"But…but how do you feel about it?"

I looked aside to stare at the wall. Voicing my emotions, especially about sex, was awkward. "…I mean, I want to," I said quietly. He was quiet for a long time as he considered what I said. "What's wrong?" I asked him eventually.

"Oh, nothing," he said, shaking his head and smiling.

"Do you not believe me?" I asked.

"What?" he said incredulously. "No, no, I believe you. Silly, of course I believe you. I'm just thinking…" I raised my eyebrows for him to continue, and he added, "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not," I told him, playing with his hair that had dried in curls.

"Well," he began, tracing his fingers up and down my waist, "I was just daydreaming…" After a pause, he went on. "I was thinking of us…having sex…and how great it would be…" We both gently smiled at one another. "…And then I was thinking about…I don't know, about the…um, precautions we'd have to take…"

He sounded kind of embarrassed, and I was confused. "Precautions, like what?"

"…Like…so…" his hands waved around in front of him, "so you don't get pregnant."

"Oh!" I exclaimed in surprise. "Oh…wow." He had been thinking very hard on it, then. "Well, you don't have to worry about anything," I told him dismally.

"Why's that?" he asked quietly.

"The Capitol implanted something inside me so I can't have kids."

"What?!" he asked loudly. I was shocked by his outburst and looked at him in confusion. Shouldn't that be a good thing? "You can't have kids ever?"

I shrugged my shoulders reproachfully. "I guess not…unless they take whatever it is inside there out again," I answered. I didn't know how they would do that. I didn't even know why they put it in there in the first place. Like they expected me to have sex—_videotaped_ sex—in the arena and didn't want me to get pregnant?

Peeta's dreamy mood left, and he looked visibly bothered. "Peeta," I asked, making him look me in the eyes, "What's the matter?" He didn't answer right away. "I mean…we're sixteen…why is this such a big deal?"

"It's just…" He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "It's dumb," he finished with.

"Peeta, stop. What is it?"

"It's just…Don't you eventually want to have kids?" I looked at him in utter bewilderment. Why was he talking about this stuff? We were young, too young to be having this discussion.

I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I answered honestly. "No. Not really…"

His eyes looked sad. "You don't?"

I was caught between being truthful and hurting his feelings. I sighed. "Peeta…"

He grabbed my hands. "I'm just curious. Why not?"

"Why not? The right question would be, why _would_ I? So I can love them and take care of them and raise them just so I can worry my ass off every single year about whether or not they'll have their name drawn? Whether or not they'll be picked to die? I can't live like that, Peeta. It'd be selfish to have kids…to bring them into this horrible world…" This conversation was upsetting me. I sat up in bed, found my clothes on the floor, and hurriedly dressed.

Peeta seemed to understand my point of view but still looked upset as he, too, sat up. "Katniss, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

I sighed. "It's fine, Peeta. I just really don't like talking about this."

He didn't really listen as he sat dejectedly against the headboard. "I've just always pictured having kids…raising a family…"

"What, with me?"

He shrugged, looking unashamed as his blue eyes met mine. "I've wanted you for a long, long time, Katniss," he answered.

The look on his face broke my heart. I didn't want to make him sad. I moved to his side of the bed and sat down close to him. "Look, Peeta, we're young. We don't have to talk about this right now, okay?"

His eyes brightened a little bit as he seemed to find hope in my words. "Okay," he said. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, and he gladly accepted my kiss with enthusiasm.


	14. Chapter 14

As Peeta slowly ridded me of my underwear, I was initially horrified to have myself completely bared to him in such a decadent way, with him so close between my spread legs, with his eyes and mouth just inches from me. What would he think? Would he like what he saw or would he be too disgusted to even continue with what he said he wanted to try? I began to second-guess my acquiescence of letting him taste me as I grew slightly self-conscious.

All of my worries disappeared, however, when I felt the wetness of his tongue make contact with me for the first time. I'd never felt something that pleasurable before in my entire life. Not even Peeta's fingers had ever made me feel that good, and that was saying a lot, because his hands were mag nificent…and did magnificent things.

It was like the dream I had had of Peeta going down on me, except it was way, way better because it was real. Everything about the moment was unreal, but it was _real_.

Peeta's warm breath spurred my hips to twitch up and into his mouth even more; I couldn't contain my movements. His tongue teased me with torturously slow licks, and I experienced wave after wave of pure delight from every minute of it. Peeta himself seemed to receive pleasure, too, just from being the one who was causing me to feel those things. I knew he had genuinely enjoyed it because he moaned against me just as I moaned out loud, each of us feeding off of each other's satisfaction, responding to and echoing each other's sounds.

I should have been embarrassed (Peeta was licking my crotch for goodness' sake, and how more indecent could you get?), but the sensations felt too pleasurable to even think about shame. I had to admit that I was really turned on by seeing his hair between my legs…Every stroke of his tongue and every brush of his fingertips along my skin was so sensual that it almost romantic. Then he reached up and held my hand as his eyes met mine, and I knew that I had lost the battle I was fighting against…I was falling for him. Hard.

Then he ravished me as his tongue moved faster than it ever had before. And _God_, the difference it made. After his mouth forced the strongest orgasm of my life out of me, Peeta slid up and lay next to my body, and I stared at him in wonder. I was amazed at how, despite us performing such a lewd act together, he had just managed to make me feel so loved…so womanly…so adored, so pretty. How was he so good at everything he did?

My breathing settled moments later, and I knew I wanted to witness Peeta come undone, too. I wanted to be the one that did the same thing for him that he was so good at doing for me. But was I going to be good at it, too? I had never…made a guy orgasm before. I became nervous at my lack of skills but knew I would get over it because of how sweet Peeta was being about my "purity" as he would call it.

He took off his underwear, and I tried not to gawk at his length. I'd never seen him so big before, not even when he had gotten hard in the tub. I had to look away for a second, and I saw Peeta's bandage on his leg, damp from the bath he probably shouldn't have even taken because of that wound…

I was getting side-tracked out of the novelty of the situation. Right—back to what I needed to do…But he was so huge…I knew that I wanted us to eventually lose our virginities to each other…eventually. But I was worried. If I was uncomfortable with his two fingers inside of me earlier, how would _that_ ever be able to fit? I was afraid at the thought, but then I considered the fact that people did it all the time, so it had to feel good, right?

Peeta saw me looking at his erection in awe and gently smiled. He kissed my nervous hand, and as our eyes met, the weirdest feeling passed between us. It was just like the earlier feeling when he grabbed my hand as he was going down on me—it was love, trust. The emotion was tangible in the air.

He led my hand to rest on his hardness. It was fairly obvious what to do, but I just didn't know what he liked. He guided me up and down a few times before I learned the exact pressure to apply, and then I was rewarded by watching his face and listening to his soft noises I'd never heard before. His jaw fell open, and he roughly pulled my lips to his in an open, wet kiss. His drawn-out moans travelled into my mouth, so I sped up my hand's motions. He began to groan as his hips moved in rhythm with my hand, and soon he warned me he was about to come, so I studied his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and tensed every muscle in his body as he grunted, my favorite sound that he ever let escape. His face looked deep in concentration as I felt little vibrations under my palm and felt hot liquid spurt on me. I looked down to see a huge mess covering my hand and Peeta's abs. Soon he felt softer, so I removed my hand, but his stickiness stuck to me. Peeta quickly came back to reality and cleaned both of us up with a shit-eating grin—kind of sheepish, kind of ecstatic. He pulled me to his body, and we comfortably spooned, eventually taking a long, much-deserved and much-needed nap. I had a feeling nothing would be the same anymore between us.

* * *

After waking up, Peeta made cute pillow talk and asked whether or not I wanted to eventually have sex with him. He had apparently been thinking about it a lot, because he even brought up birth-control. Then the entire mood from earlier was swept away as I told him I was never going to have kids. Peeta's reaction about my infertility implantation shocked me, and his admittance of wanting a family with me had me totally floored. I attempted to bring the situation back to normal by completely pushing away the thought of raising a family by kissing him.

After breaking away from Peeta's lips, I could tell that he was still thinking about what I had just said, and truthfully, even though I had tried to push it away, I was still thinking about what _he_ had just said. The sudden discovery of his desire to raise a family with me kind of freaked me out. I didn't want a family. I had belonged to one at one time—a happy one—and then I grew up and learned things. Life wasn't perfect. It wasn't even remotely good. I wasn't going to have kids of my own just to raise them for slaughter, just to have them lead a meaningless existence. And that's basically what I'd be doing, even though Peeta didn't see it that way.

I wondered why he was even concerned about having babies. We were only teenagers who had just begun experimenting and stuff. Even though he made it clear he wanted to have sex with me, we weren't even at _that _point yet. I was dealing with enough just trying to sort out my feelings for him… Why did I have to be dealing with this crap? Normal teenagers around here worried about the clothes they wore…or gossiped about the clothes _other_ people wore… or got drunk and went skinny dipping in the lake …or had crazy parties with their multitudes of friends…They didn't think about raising a family at the age of sixteen. And here Peeta was getting upset because I, a sixteen-year-old teenager, didn't want a child?

I thought about it some more and realized that I Peeta and I weren't really normal teenagers. I wasn't, at least. I didn't have many friends, and I hadn't really even spoken to anyone besides some family members since I got back from the arena. I'd never gone skinny dipping or attended wild parties. The most irresponsible thing I'd done was when I got drunk off of moonshine and blacked out, and I did that completely alone, so it barely counted. Well, Peeta was there, too, but only to take care of me. I got drunk by myself because I'm a loser. And I didn't go from boy to boy to boy like some girls here in the district did. A lot of them started to kiss and do other things at much younger ages, with lots of different boys. Peeta was my first kiss, my first _everything_ so far. And we technically just began knowing each other a couple months ago…

I considered my jealousy of the "normal kids" for a little bit. I wouldn't even want to live like that, so I didn't know why I constantly compared myself to them. I didn't want to wear makeup and look at myself in the mirror ten times a day to make sure I looked perfect, and I didn't want to get drunk and do a bunch of stupid things at some stupid party in the holler. I didn't want to kiss a bunch of guys. I was beyond all that…I was honestly happy to only have Peeta, and I was relieved that he and I had never done anything with anybody else. Everything was a new experience for both of us, and the things we did were kind of special because we were sharing it with each other for the first time…

Still, and I wasn't ready for serious talk of settling down.

My endeavor to wash away both of our worries with a kiss had failed. We both wanted different things, I realized, as I broke my lips from his. We both looked at each other without masking the sadness on our faces, and I turned away from him feeling deflated. The euphoric feeling from earlier disappeared, leaving us with the cold reality of life in District Twelve again.

I got off the bed without any more words and walked into the bathroom to braid my hair that was now tangled from the earlier events on the bed. I stood in front of the mirror and absentmindedly fought with all the knots in my still-damp hair with a large hairbrush. As I battled with a particularly ratty section of hair, I examined the side of my head closer in the mirror. How had my hair turned into a rat's nest?

Something in my reflection wasn't right…I didn't look like I normally did. My eyes slowly looked around in the mirror to discover what had changed when I finally noticed what it was. My jaw fell open as I leaned closer to the mirror, staring in horror at the multiple atrocities covering the skin below my jaw.

Dark red and purple marks completely splayed across the upper and lower sections of both sides of my neck, and I freaked out. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What the hell was this? I looked like I had been attacked by a vacuum cleaner. I was severely bruised, and at first I was very confused until it dawned on me that it had to be from Peeta biting me. He had bitten me, and he had sucked so hard that it had discolored my skin.

"Peeta!" I yelled bossily from my frozen position in front of the sink. "Get in here!"

A few seconds later he appeared at the doorway still in his underwear, first looking confused and then almost _cheery_ as he realized what I was scowling about.

"What's so funny?" I asked rudely after witnessing his happy expression. I loudly dropped my hairbrush, and it fell in the sink with a loud noise. "What the hell is this?" I asked fixedly, pulling my hair behind my back and pointing firmly at my neck.

His leaned against the door frame with his hands in his pockets. He looked completely nonchalant, even amused, as he shrugged and said with a smile, "Sorry…you didn't seem to mind earlier, though."

I was incandescent with rage. Was he trying to be _cute_? His rebuttal only increased my scowl. I agitatedly pulled all of my hair forward to cover myself. He had to have seen this when he had done it. He had to have. Why wouldn't he have said something earlier? Why wouldn't he have stopped biting me after he saw the first bruise? Or the second, or the fifth? There seemed to be tons of them; they were everywhere.

My hair was so long, and in the middle of summer like this, I really liked it out of my face to keep me cooler, but that wasn't an option now. I had to cover all of my neck. How long would it look like that? I almost growled.

All of my annoyed feelings from earlier today came back, and I welcomed them with ease. Me having to dig my way out of the freaking woods earlier today, me getting _plastered_ in mud, me discovering that Peeta had been letting his mother beat on him _still_, and now this! Peeta, the vampire. It was simpler for me to just be mad than to dwell on my other emotions…like that discussion about having a family…so I just let my anger spread and encompass me as I glared at him.

"It's not _funny_, Peeta," I muttered angrily, squeezing through the doorway without touching him and storming downstairs. From behind me, I vaguely heard him saying something, but I ignored it. I opened the front door and, realizing there really was nowhere to go, slammed it shut and sat down on the porch steps, resting my forehead in the palms of my hands. I felt irrationally angry. Everything was unbelievably annoying to me today. Granted, the time Peeta and I had just spent alone on the bed helped…but if I could admit it to myself, I was _still_ horny, even though I was angry as hell at him at the moment. I didn't understand how I could feel all of these different things at once—frustrated, annoyed, pissed off, horny.

I decided to focus on the feeling I could identify with the most, the most familiar feeling of simply being mad. And I had a right to be mad. My neck looked like shit, and who knew how long it would take for these bruises to go away? Judging by the way he acted earlier, all smiling and jesting at my reaction of horror, it seemed like he meant to do that…to _mark_ me. I liked it at the time, but now…now it was on display for the whole world to see.

Moments later the door softly creaked shut and I closed my eyes and sighed as I heard Peeta tentatively approach me from behind.

"Go away," I told him. Then I realized I probably sounded like a huge bitch, so I added, "Please." I wanted to be alone, but at least I wasn't running away, right? He should take comfort in that, at least. Normally I would have left to go to the woods or even back to my old home. Running away was an almost-immediate response to uncomfortable situations for me, so I was somewhat proud internally that I had chosen to remain here at the house. He apparently didn't want to leave me alone, however, so he sat down next to me.

"Katniss—"

"It's fine," I said with conviction, scooting my butt down to the step below, because I knew he probably just wanted to talk about my _feelings._ "I just want to be alone."

He scooted to the same step I moved to, and when I turned my head slightly to look at him, he looked hurt. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he said pleadingly, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I didn't know you'd get so mad about it. I really thought you liked it," he apologized sincerely, sounding sad himself. My anger was making him upset. I was good at ruining good things, I guess. Ughhhhh.

"Did you see my neck, though? Would _you_ like this?" I pulled back my hair again so he could see exactly what his mouth had done.

He looked genuinely apologetic. His voice was half the volume of mine when he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

I was mad, true, but I also remembered in the back of my head how good it had felt when he was sucking and biting my neck... I didn't want Peeta to say he wouldn't do it again because I actually wanted him to. But that didn't change the fact that I was mad. He didn't have to do so _much_.

"I wouldn't be so mad if it was someplace no one could see," I moodily responded.

He examined the side of my face again (as well as he could with my hair covering so much of my cheek) and seemed to read my thoughts as he said, "I completely understand…I went a little overboard." I grumpily sniggered, and he added, "Okay, so a lot overboard. I guess I got carried away…"

I decided to silently accept his apology but still couldn't shake my bad mood. We sat in silence, side-by-side, staring out at the mountains in the distance that looked dark blue from this far away. Even surrounded by the beauty of the outdoors, I felt depressed for some reason. My head felt heavy, and my mouth pulled down in a frown as I grew lethargic and leaned against the porch railing. Peeta tentatively rubbed my back, up and down and up and down again, before returning his hand to his lap where he twiddled his thumbs around.

We were uncomfortably silent for a long time, me looking moody and Peeta looking remorseful. Soon we heard a racket to the left of us and our shoulders jumped before we craned our necks to investigate what it was. A few jars and knick-knacks had fallen from the porch rail before our lovely neighbor, Haymitch, appeared stumbling down his steps with a mandolin in his hands, making his way to our porch. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, _crap_," Peeta muttered to me, "I forgot I invited him over for supper."

Great. I didn't want to be around one person right now, let alone two. But whatever.

"Well, hey, lovebirds," he greeted us as he approached the porch and took in our glum appearances.

I wasn't going to entertain his sarcasm. "Hey," I told him, standing up and sitting down on the porch swing, careful to keep my hair covering myself but probably being way too obvious.

"Good evening," Peeta greeted Haymitch, standing up to let him walk to the rocking chair on the other side of the porch. He himself sat down next to me on the swing. "You just getting up or something?" he asked Haymitch, looking at his tired face and sleepy eyes.

Haymitch grunted and sat down in the chair. "I had me a long nap," he explained, yawning and pulling his instrument on his lap. Peeta went inside to put something in the oven that he said would take a while to cook, but rejoined me on the swing moments later.

Haymitch began playing random notes as he tuned the mandolin. I remembered as I heard him strum just how beautiful the sounds from this instrument were, how sad and bittersweet they sounded. Soon, he began to play old folk songs as we all sat around not talking…just listening with open ears. Eventually I even uncrossed my arms to let my hands rest in my lap.

I recognized the second song Haymitch played and couldn't help but hum along. It was another classic from this district, and I hadn't heard it in years. It was a song that my dad and I would sing together. Back when he was alive. Visions of good times with him filled my mind, and I found myself quietly singing until I became a little bit louder and a little bit louder still. I put all of my lonely feelings into my voice and found that I still amazingly remembered every single lyric to the song. The mind was a funny thing. While singing, I even remotely smelled the shampoo that Dad used to use, and the piney smell filled my nostrils as I willed myself not to cry. Then the song was over, and I felt awkward as the air was deadly quiet again.

The two men stared at me, and I felt my face and neck getting hotter under the scrutiny. "You can really sing," Haymitch acknowledged after he set his instrument down on his lap.

I replied, "No better than anyone else." He just shook his head.

"Take a compliment, babe," Peeta whispered in my ear. It was embarrassing when people drew attention to me, but I still thanked Haymitch, realizing that I actually meant it when I told him. Haymitch never complimented me. I was actually fairly sure he disliked me, but we had a weird relationship. I kind of disliked him, too, but at the same time, I enjoyed his company. I wasn't enjoying much of anything, though, because all I could think about was my dad and the memories accompanying that song.

Peeta broke the silence that soon fell on us after Haymitch stopped playing. "Still want to have dinner with us, Haymitch? I'm starving," he said as he rubbed his belly.

"Yup, that's why I'm here," the older man san, standing up and letting himself in the house without waiting for either of us to go in first. Peeta held the door open for me and I walked inside to sit on the couch.

Peeta checked the oven and told us it would be another ten minutes or so.

"What is it?" Haymitch asked from the side of the kitchen table he was stationed at, playing cards.

"Lasagna." The older man made a face of approval as he continued his game. Peeta prepared salad and set the table while waiting for the dish to complete, and I sat alone in the living room, watching television on the couch with an ever-growing headache. Too many things were racing through my head. I was still angry, but underneath that layer was just depression.

The kitchen smelled great but was stifling hot. My thick, long hair didn't make it the situation any better, but I didn't feel like complaining, let alone talking, so I didn't say anything as we began to eat. Haymitch and Peeta made small talk. I didn't speak.

"You lookin' at vehicles tomorrow still?" Haymitch asked Peeta. I got a little happy on the inside about that—I forgot that we were going to do that soon.

Peeta shook his head and swallowed his bite of pasta. "Oh, I have to work tomorrow, I forgot to tell you, Katniss," he said, looking at me. I just raised my eyebrows, slightly surprised though I knew I shouldn't be. His family lie to him about being off and use him for labor? Unheard of! I didn't ask why, but he explained, "There was a raid today." He was talking more to Haymitch now than to me. "Some Peacekeepers tore our bakery apart, and now we're behind on all our orders."

Haymitch looked troubled. "What the hell for?"

Peeta shrugged. "Other shops said they had the same thing happen to them. Looking for something, I guess. Never had it happen before."

Haymitch didn't respond and continued looking deep-in-thought throughout the rest of his meal. "Well, this was real nice, y'all," he finally said, throwing his napkin from his lap to the table. "It's like we're one big family or somethin'!"

There was the family word again. It was too much. The family talk with Peeta from earlier…thinking of my dad so much this evening…I wanted to run upstairs and pull the covers up over my head and disappear, but I knew I couldn't just excuse myself that rudely without raising suspicions. I found myself yawning as I cleaned up the table because of how full I was, so Peeta suggested I just go to bed while he finished cleaning. Normally I would have been annoyed—I was fully capable of helping clean a mess I created, especially if he cooked dinner—but I felt too bad to care. I said goodnight to Haymitch and accepted a kiss on the forehead from Peeta and made my way upstairs, climbing into bed.

Thinking of getting older and having a family depressed me. A lot. I over-analyzed the situation for a long time while staring at the ceiling. Peeta wanted a family; I did not. I knew of some couples whose relationships didn't even last because of disagreements over this exact same issue. But here in the Seam it was actually very uncommon for a married couple to _not_ raise a family. Even though everyone knew what they were bringing their child into, they still kept having them, either because they needed help at home or because they were too stupid to do something to protect themselves from pregnancy happening in the first place.

I knew I held a rare view about remaining childless, but it wasn't like I didn't like kids or anything. Just the opposite, actually. I loved kids, and if I had one of my own, I wouldn't be able to deal with that kind of loss after the Games like so many parents did every single year. Losing my father left a big enough emotional void. I thought about him as I hummed our song.

That last song that Haymitch had played earlier was one that my dad and I used to sing while we went on our long hikes or "adventures" together. Suddenly, I was there in the meadow again, trying to keep up with my dad's long strides through the tall grass. We would sing and laugh, and he would teach me about different plants and animals while I took in every single word he said, convinced that I was going to grow up to be just like him one day. I needed to know everything that he knew; the knowledge was vital. He was my Daddy, and I was his little girl. I adored him.

That was before I knew the truth about the world that we lived in, before I learned about the Capitol and before I was forced like so many others to participate in the Reaping each year. Though we were mandated to watch the Hunger Games and learn about the rebellion in school, for some reason I never thought it was real. It couldn't be, I thought. I lived in the small sphere of the Seam, only leaving it to go to school, and nothing was better than my mommy and daddy and sister. I was always so happy to see Dad come home from work, all dirty and exhausted but still energized enough to talk to me and let me sit on his knee while he relaxed in his favorite chair. I remembered how I hated him working night-shifts because I hardly ever saw him, but once he worked the day-shift again, we sat down and ate dinner together as a family and everything. Mom was even happy.

Those were the days that Prim had trouble remembering, even though she was only a few years younger than I was. It was sad that she didn't vividly recall the greatness of all the happy times that actually went on back then like I did. I had no trouble whatsoever remembering my childhood and all of the love and comfort that I felt growing up. All of that changed in just one day, however. One day five years ago. My joyful innocence was ripped out from under my feet in one swift motion in just a matter of seconds. There wasn't even anything left of my father for me to really say goodbye to. We buried a picture of him in the dirt behind our house. That was our closure.

Something inside my chest twisted around, and I couldn't breathe. Actually, I tried not to breathe, because I felt like if I opened my mouth, the huge sob that I was holding inside would release, so I turned my mouth downwards to try to keep everything inside. I attempted to ride this emotion out, but it wouldn't be pushed away. If anything, it just became clearer, and the loneliness and longing for my father and for an easier life overwhelmed my whole being until the feeling exploded and released. My eyes angrily stung, and I wiped at them in annoyance as tears began to freely leak from my eyes.

I wanted things to be easy again. Life was so complicated, and I hated it. I hated waking up every single day and having nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for.

I hugged the pillow closer to me and turned my head into it to muffle the sounds of my embarrassing weeping. I cried because I missed being happy. I cried because I missed having a family. I cried for all of the carefree times that could have been, had it not been for one fateful mistake in the mines that one fateful day. Would things really be that different, though? The Games would still have gone on…life still would have been difficult…

Soon I heard Peeta's loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and I completely stilled my body and quieted my sniffling when I heard the door creak open. The room was dark, and I had my back turned away from the door, so hopefully he couldn't tell I had been crying. I feigned sleep, a hard task to do as I became apprehensive with each step I could hear him take, nearing me little by little.

"Katniss?" he said in the quiet room. I felt his hand gently touch my shoulder and trail down my back. I remained quiet. Peeta put his hand on my hip and softly attempted to turn me around because he could sense I was awake…could sense something was wrong. I jerked my hip away from his hand and rolled over onto my stomach.

"Peeta, please, I just want to be alone," I implored as clearly as I could—my throat had become scratchy, and my voice was now deeper because my nose was runny. I also was talking into a pillow. I heard him walk around to the other side of the bed and felt him lay beside me. I turned my head to face the door, now away from his line of vision. I didn't want him to tell I'd been crying, but it was pretty much inevitable now.

"Katniss…please look at me," he requested, putting his arm around me again to try to roll me over.

"Why?" I asked mulishly.

"Because something's wrong," he replied, "and I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing wrong," I said, still stubbornly trying to solely hold onto my anguish so as to keep Peeta far away from the longing for my past. I needed to just push them out of my mind and forget about them. I needed to stop crying. What good did crying do? It wouldn't bring my father back. Still, I couldn't stop. I could feel the pillow growing progressively wetter under my cheek.

Peeta sighed. "You've always been a horrible liar, you know," he said, running his fingers along my hair. "Are you going to tell me what's the matter or do I have to guess?"

I ignored his loaded question and answered, "I'm fine."

"You're _not_ fine, Katniss," he insisted. "Just please...just don't lie to me."

"I don't know what you want me to say," I said to the wall. I had to sniff because my nose was so runny, and it gave me away. I harshly wiped at it with the back of my hand.

"Just say what's wrong." He still stroked my hair. I knew he liked it best when it was down.

"I just don't feel good. I'm just really tired, and I want to go to bed."

"The _truth_ about what's wrong," he amended. When I didn't respond because I was trying to pull myself together, he began listing off possible things I was crying about. "Is it because I have to work tomorrow?"

"No," I said thickly. It sucked, true, but no.

"Is it because of your neck?" I had momentarily forgotten about my neck. For obvious reasons, I was still upset about that, but I wouldn't be so bent out of shape so as to cry about it, and I told him so. "...Is it because of the family thing I mentioned earlier?"

When I didn't respond, he knew he had guessed right. But there was more to it than just what he had said earlier. It was…everything. Everything was too much. My dad…the past…life. At my silence, Peeta insisted that I turn around, and reluctantly, I did. We both lay on our sides closely facing one another. My red-rimmed eyes looked towards his handsome yet boyish face, still discolored and swollen. I found that I wouldn't be able to hide the truth about my feelings after looking in his eyes. Kindness radiated out of their unbelievably blue depths—kindness I didn't feel was warranted. "Katniss…" he said, removing the hair from my cheeks that had stuck to the wetness there and tucking it behind my ear.

I promised him earlier in the week that I would talk to him when I was feeling bad. That's what he wanted, right? For me to talk to him? …Even if all I had to say was negative. Even if all I knew I would do was bawl. It was just _so_ hard for me to do. I didn't think it'd be such a challenge for me. Old habits were hard to break, and I was so used to avoiding my problems that it was horribly difficult to simply discuss them at the moment. Even to Peeta.

As I looked in his eyes, I felt cared for. I felt like I mattered, like I meant something special to him. I also felt like I didn't deserve it one bit. My eyes welled up once again, and I had to look away from his eyes. I felt so exposed with him looking at me, like he could see directly into my mind. Even more exposed than I did this afternoon, if that was possible. It was funny—I could be naked in front of him, but baring my innermost thoughts and feelings terrified me more than anything.

Peeta placated me by wrapping his arm around me and gently caressing my back. "I can comfort you in times like these, baby. That's what I'm here for." He leaned forward and lightly kissed the tip of my nose. "And you can comfort me…We can comfort each other." I still didn't know how to respond to that, so after a while, he whispered, "Talk to me."

I sniffed again but discovered that my nose wasn't runny anymore; it was now completely stopped up, and I could no longer breathe through it. I sounded nasally as I confessed, "I just feel like such a burden to you."

"Why? Cause you're crying?" I nodded. He pulled me in closer. "It's okay to cry. It's always okay to cry. I hate myself for being the reason _that_ you're crying, though."

"You're not," I told him, softly shaking my head. I was beginning to get a horrible headache. My face was puffy, and my eyes hurt. They just didn't want to stop producing tears, though.

"You're upset about the whole…family talk. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm not doing so well…This'll be, what? The third time I've screwed up so far today…" He laughed at himself.

"Peeta—"

He interrupted me. "No, just listen to me first. I know I say I'm sorry a lot, but it's because I am. I hate to see you unhappy, but I hate _making_ you unhappy even more. I know I make a lot of mistakes, and I'll continue to make a lot of mistakes, but just please bare with me, okay?"

How did I ever deserve Peeta? I was the one who was moody, I was the one who was flawed, and he was always the one apologizing.

"I…" I had no clue how to talk about this. It was so difficult. "It's really okay." I sniffed. "It…I mean, yeah, it scares me that you want a family…but really…I just really miss my dad," I told him honestly. It might have sounded stupid, and I might have sounded five years old, but it was how I felt. His thumb brushed away a fresh set of tears that began to stain my face. He didn't respond to me, just soothed me quietly and waited until I was ready to talk more.

"The song I sung earlier…" I breathed deep through my mouth so I wouldn't begin crying again. "My dad and I used to sing it." My voice caught in my throat. "All the time."

"Oh, Katniss…"

"It hurts so much to live, Peeta," I cried, wiping my eyes embarrassingly. "I just want to sleep forever."

He was quiet, and an unrecognizable intimacy passed between us as he looked at me. I hid my face in his shirt. "If pain didn't exist, what meaning would the happy times have?" Peeta pondered.

He had a point. Life was hard, but if it weren't, I wouldn't be the person I am today. It wasn't fair at all, but it was all one big learning experience. I removed my head from his shoulder and sat up to loudly blow my nose. I sat up against the headboard and used a tissue to dry off the remnants of my crying—I had finally stopped.

Peeta sat up against the bed frame, too, and finally spoke aloud the issues that were still between us. "It's the last thing I ever want to do to upset you, but I have to be honest. I want to believe that maybe there's a possibility of you wanting a family with me, even if it's years and years down the road. Just a possibility."

He was so great to me. He always helped soothe me when I got emotional like this. He was a constant source of comfort. So, I could give him what he wanted. I could give him a possibility. "I…I don't think I could live without you," I confessed, "so…okay…"

"Okay, what?"

"Okay…There's a possibility." His eyes became brighter in the dark room. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, gathering all of my hair in his hands and braiding it. I found the gesture so sweet that I broke out into tears all over again.


	15. Chapter 15

I woke up the next morning in the big, empty bed that Peeta and I shared because he went to the bakery to work on his day off. I was unusually annoyed with him as I was left to stare only at the ruffled indentions he had left in the soft sheets beside me, but I knew my ill-will was unwarranted because he was just trying to help out his dad. He probably wasn't able to get out of it, and even if he could have, knowing Peeta, he was probably too decent to do so.

The whole situation was really bizarre, and I didn't know what to make of it. My brain was too hazy from just waking up to try to make sense out of anything, and I knew it was pointless anyway: to name off the reasons the Peacekeepers abused their power would be a never-ending task. I decided to transfer my anger to them instead of Peeta. He wouldn't have had to work today had it not been for the dictatorship of the Capitol...And his horrible family. Would things ever be normal in this stupid district? Most likely not. I should be happy that things weren't worse. My family was alive, I was alive, Peeta was alive…I should be grateful, right?

I sighed in mild frustration at the circumstances as I stared at Peeta's fluffy pillow. I hugged it to me, and the scent of his hair wafted into my nose. I breathed in deeply, missing him even more and wishing he were here so it could be _him_ I was smelling and not some piece of fabric. Now he'd be gone for the majority of the day. And we were supposed to go on a date.

I considered my emotions for a minute…Last night I had wanted more than anything to just be alone, and now I wanted Peeta to spend all day with me. _And_ I had been unenthusiastic about the "date" thing for days, but now I was getting moody about not being able to follow through with it. I was a confusing person, and I wondered why Peeta even put up with me sometimes. Gale sure as hell wouldn't—he'd fight with me until I snapped out of whatever mood I was in…He'd be firmly rational until I stopped being emotional. Sometimes it helped; sometimes it made me resentful.

I let thoughts of him wander through my mind. Where was he? What was he doing? How was his family? I found it very easy to let these thoughts exit, though. His mom and mine were friends, so I figured I'd just ask her when Peeta and I visited home sometime in the next few days.

The differences between Peeta and Gale were huge. Peeta talked and _comforted_ me until whatever mood I was experiencing washed away. It was much more effective. After talking with Peeta last night, I really did feel better. Maybe that's why I wanted him next to me when I woke up. I didn't know…even if I were in a better mood right now, I'd still want to wake up next to him. I was getting tired of waking up alone all the time. Yesterday had been nice because we got out of bed at the same time and got ready together and stuff. I had liked that…I missed it already. Now I didn't even feel like getting out of bed, so I thought back on yesterday as I stretched and lazily sprawled out.

Last night was really difficult for me emotionally. You would think that after five years, I wouldn't keep having break-downs about my father's absence, but it still happened regularly. Dealing with the whole "family" talk had made everything worse, but Peeta successfully calmed me down like he always did. I could tell that he felt guilty for even bringing anything up, but he had every right to say what he felt. Truthfully, I was really flattered on the inside even though it scared me out of my mind. I never thought that anybody would say those things to me…would like me _that_ much to even think about being with me way into the future. Peeta liked to dream about stuff like that…life in five years, life in ten years… I told him I would entertain his desire to have a family with me one day but that we should try to just live in the present for now. He agreed. It was a nice compromise.

After wrapping myself up in the warmth of his arms, I had finally stopped crying. I felt ten times better than I had all day, but I still had a troubled night's sleep. Now I felt downright shitty—emotionally and physically—as I rubbed sleep out of my eyes and yawned. As I sat up to go to the bathroom, I immediately knew the reason for my mood: I started my period. Ughh…I grimaced at the sudden pain plaguing the entire lower half of my body as I tried to move off of the bed, but a wave of cramps rolled through my abdomen, and I had to clutch my stomach until they passed. What a nice day off. It explained all the crying I'd been doing, at least.

My cramps had always been torturous, at least during the first day or so. The bottom of my stomach felt like a thousand tiny fists were inside punching and punishing me. I could add that to the list of reasons to not have kids, actually. If I thought my period hurt _this_ badly, what must labor be like? My legs and back and boobs and feet hurt…everything hurt. I felt bloated and heavy and gross, and I also felt like a wuss because I was internally complaining so much. But it freaking _hurt_. After going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I threw on some sweatpants and one of Peeta's shirts and collapsed right back into the warmth of the blankets. I just wanted to stay in bed and sleep all day. So I did.

I woke up again very late in the morning, sweaty and gross and achy. I groaned as I drug my body to the bathroom once more to take care of the inevitable chores that go with having your period. Looking in the mirror, I assessed myself. I looked tired and yucky, and the baggy clothes I wore didn't help anything. I swept my tangled hair behind my back and noticed that the spots on my neck had darkened. I didn't think it would be possible for them to get darker, but they stood out like speckled purple burns. I sighed and pursed my lips in agitation. I guess Peeta had gotten the point yesterday, though, so there was no need to continue being bent out of shape about it. They'd go away. Someday. Hopefully. Unceasing pain shooting through my ovaries reminded me that I had other things to worry about at the moment.

This sucked. I _hated_ my period. Dropping my clothes to the floor, I decided to take a bath to make myself feel better. I soaked in scalding hot water for what seemed like an hour until eventually I got pruney and the water turned cold. Soon my stomach hurt—not from cramps but from hunger—so I went downstairs to reheat last night's lasagna. Peeta had outdone himself. I was so lucky that he could cook. Filling an entire plate, I carried the pasta into the living room where I plopped down on the couch under a bunch of blankets. I scarfed down the food while watching a little mindless television, officially having the laziest day of my life. Absentmindedly, I placed my dirty plate on the floor beside the couch and ultimately fell asleep again.

* * *

Peeta's cool hand on my forehead woke me up much later in the afternoon. I reluctantly opened my eyes and blearily took in his concerned face looking down on me. I knew what he must've been thinking as he took in my appearance. I probably looked as disgusting as I felt. I managed a slight smile, though, as I finally breathed in the scent I'd been missing all day: _Peeta_.

He lowered himself to his knees by the couch and kissed my forehead. "Hey, sleepyhead," he whispered, brushing my hair out of my face. He always did that. I liked it.

"Hey," I quietly answered. He looked beautiful. His nose and the area under his eyes were sort of pink—not from his injuries, which seemed to have almost gone away—but from apparent sunburn. He easily burned in just a few minutes under the sun. It was cute. It made the blue of his eyes even lighter, electric. I just stared at him, still too dazed from sleep to realize if I was being weird.

"You look pale," Peeta assessed. "You not feeling well?" The grimace on my face returned at my reality check, and I shook my head as I stretched. My hands had been resting on top of my abdomen, unsuccessfully trying to ease some of the aching there, but I reached them all the way behind my head as I yawned. I felt so lazy. I had been sleeping most of the day, but it only seemed to make me more lethargic. I had already slept for a ridiculously long amount of time, but I still felt like I could go immediately back to sleep again.

"What's wrong?" Peeta worriedly asked, checking my forehead again. I knew I didn't have a fever, so I rolled over on my side to face the couch cushions and put a pillow over my head. "My stomach hurts," I groaned aloud, curling back in a ball under the many layers of blankets I threw over me. I really didn't want to talk about the issues I was having, especially not to Peeta.

"Something you ate?" he asked me, rubbing the bottoms of my legs through the covers and probably noticing the plate on the floor next to me.

I shook my head because I didn't want to talk about it, but he of course didn't see, so I had to speak out loud. "No, I just don't feel good," I told him after removing the pillow from my head and hugging it to me.

He made a sympathetic face. He must've thought I was still upset about my father or something. "Do you need anything?" he asked. I said a hushed "no" and with a slight squeeze of my calf, he said, "I'll… let you rest up, then. Just holler if I can do anything. I'll be in the drawing room," he informed me. I mumbled an acknowledgement before I heard him stand up and walk down the hall. I closed my eyes and somehow succeeded in falling asleep once more.

* * *

"Katniss, wake up," Peeta softly invoked as he shook my shoulder. I groaned and turned around onto my back as I opened my eyes to see him anxiously looking at me once again. I noticed that he hadn't changed his work clothes, and his forearms and hands were splattered with dried flour and paint. Squatting beside the couch, he whispered while smoothing the hair from my face, "Baby, you've been asleep for a long time…How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," I answered, closing my eyes again. Truthfully, I felt useless. I could sense him staring at me, so I reopened my eyes after a few seconds.

"There's obviously something _wrong_, though," he persisted. "You've been sleeping for a really long time."

"My stomach hurts," I repeated my words from earlier, wishing he'd drop the subject. I really had to get up and do something. I had literally slept almost the entire day. I lifted myself up a bit so my back was resting against the pillows now, hopefully signifying to Peeta that I was okay, just tired.

But he just worried over me more. "Do you think you're getting the flu?" he asked. I knew he was just concerned, but all of his worrying and all of his questions were starting to really agitate me, so I figured I would just say what it was so he would stop.

I wasn't at ease with doing this at all, but I said after a lengthy sigh, "I'm on my period, okay?" I frowned and diverted my eyes from his figure crouching beside me.

He was quiet for an instant, then his eyes widened. "Oh!" he said in a moment of realization. "Oh…Why didn't you just say so?" He sat down by my feet at the far end of the couch, like he was relieved and completely comfortable with this topic.

I shrugged as I examined the pattern on the blanket covering me. "It's not something people really want to hear about..." Not something _boys_ want to hear about, at least. "And it's embarrassing."

"Shouldn't be," he said with a shrug, reaching out and grabbing my hand to caress it sympathetically. "Just a part of life."

My mouth opened slightly as I tried to find a response. All I could do was narrow my eyes at him. Who _said_ that? Why was he being like this? I looked down at his hand holding mine in confusion.

He laughed at me and said, "What?"

"Nothing…" I shook my head. "It's just…" I raised my head to look at him again as I creased my eyebrows. "You would have preferred me to tell you about…_that_?"

"Well, yeah." He looked confused. "Would've saved me a bunch of worrying."

"Sorry," I atoned.

He waved away my apology. "Stop," he chastised lightly before lifting my feet onto his lap to rub. I closed my eyes and automatically let out a groan of pleasure. Was he for real? I became the confused one now. This was such a taboo subject. I was really surprised that we were having a conversation about it so nonchalantly, like we did this all the time.

I looked at him—really looked at him—and a weird feeling passed through me at my realization of Peeta's complete perfection. Obviously, I knew Peeta was kind-hearted, and I knew he was a good person. But for some reason, it was just now dawning on me exactly how caring and understanding he truly was. He was down-to-the-bone genuine … Had I really been so oblivious as to not realize that his sweetness wasn't just random? That it was just who he was? Because that's what it felt like to me: oblivion. It felt like this was brand new information, but I should've known all along that he would be cool with my "ailment." Why? Because he accepted everything about me.

I paused to ponder how great he was for a few seconds while our eyes met. It was in my nature to be suspicious of others...to analyze people's intentions…to look out for the other guy. I saw that I had been upholding these habits when it came to Peeta without even realizing it, and I knew I had to stop. I didn't have to be wary about him. I didn't have to constantly attempt to draw sinister conclusions about any of his behavior like I did with almost every other person in the district. It was pointless. He was honest.

I'd never really known what it was like to not have to suspect somebody's ulterior motives, and the novel feeling of completely believing somebody was strange but welcome. It was great to completely accept that Peeta wouldn't lie to me or say something just to make me feel better. His words were naturally sweet, and by _default_ they made me feel better. There was a small—but significant—difference.

So I was bleeding—"it's a part of life," he had said. I guess this moment of clarity had happened to me at this particular moment because honestly, who else would say something like that? Something so obvious but something that made me feel so normal and human… and _understood_?

I think it was a shock to me because of what I had to compare Peeta to. The boys at school would always make crude jokes about "that time of the month," and the consensus was that it was nasty. Anything cranky a girl said could be written off as hormones because she was about to start her period or was actually _on_ her period. It was completely ridiculous. According to guys, then, there was basically a window of only a week where a woman had the right to get justifiably upset.

Even Gale used to make me feel bad because my period would get in my way of hunting sometimes. He would criticize my accuracy or something, and I'd be forced to get defensive with him because he'd be a jerk about it. Eventually we'd fight and I'd have to reluctantly admit to him that I had _period cramps_. His eyes would go wide in shock and then he'd avoid talking altogether—about anything—after that. Just remembering that pissed me off because he made me feel like I was diseased or something.

And here was Peeta, unquestioningly accepting that I was on my period and _rubbing my feet_. He was amazing…he really was. I placed my hands on top of my stomach again, as if this action did something to alleviate the aching below. Peeta noticed and looked at me apologetically. "Do you want medicine…or something?" he asked.

"I took some of your Tylenol earlier," I told him as I shook my head. "Didn't help." We really didn't need to keep talking about this, so I added, "It's really okay. I'm just being a baby. It'll stop."

He still insisted on helping in some way, though. "What about those poppy things from Sae?"

My eyes went wide with this realization. "I completely forgot about them," I said honestly. How stupid of me. Now that he had said something, I immediately wanted some. Peeta wordlessly read my excited expression and disappeared upstairs after putting my feet back under the blanket. He reemerged into the living room moments later with the little pouch full of medicine.

"I'll get you some water, hang tight," he told me after dropping the bag in my lap.

I shifted on the couch and tucked my legs in closer to my body so Peeta would have room to comfortably sit, too. He plopped down on the couch seconds later with two glasses of water, mine with ice and a straw in it. With a paring knife he had gotten from the kitchen, he split the green ball in half, and we both winced as we swallowed our dose, chasing it down with tons of liquid.

"Is your leg hurting you?" I had completely forgotten about the medicine because he hadn't been taking any of it lately. He hadn't said anything about pain in his leg, and I felt bad for not asking before now.

He reluctantly nodded. "Guess I'm on it too much."

"Mom needs to look at it again," I reminded him, already feeling the tingling under my skin that told me the medicine was beginning to work. He curtly nodded, looking a bit _somewhere else_, but then he smiled and replied, "We can go tomorrow then." I nodded in agreement. "If you feel like it," he added.

"I will," I assured.

We were silent for a minute, both starting to feel light-years better as we snuggled together under the blankets on the couch. "So how was work?" I asked conversationally.

"Busy," he answered, scratching his head under the mop of hair messily lying atop it. He counted off on his fingers, "I had three cakes, a couple dozen cupcake orders, then the regular daily stuff like bread and pastries and stuff. And cleaning the mess from yesterday that Ry overlooked. "

I looked at him sympathetically. "But you're off now for two days, right?"

"Three," he beamed. I matched his smile. Three days off together. Oh, the possibilities. We both seemed to be thinking the same thing as we became silent and day-dreamy. Then he started to name off some things that he really did have to get done. "I have to look for a vehicle…get my leg checked out…and I could really use a haircut…"

"Oh, Prim can do it while we're already at Mom's," I suggested. I laughed at his skeptical look. "Really. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think she'd do a good job. Wouldn't want her to mess up the hair I like so much." I smiled at him but quickly averted my eyes from his. Was I flirting?

"No, we wouldn't…" he replied.

I was bad at flirting, so I didn't know what else to respond with. We became silent again, listening to each other breathe. Soon Peeta jerked his body and looked at me. "Oh! I forgot." He stood up and began to walk down the hall. "I made you something," he called over his shoulder and hurriedly walked into his art room. A few moments later, he reappeared into the living room, carrying an easel with a huge canvas perched on top.

"Tada," he said, dramatically using his arms to display his artwork to me after he set it down on the floor.

I sat up more fully and examined what I was looking at: a convincing image of what looked like me, sleeping in our bed upstairs. I disbelievingly studied it. He had painted me hugging a pillow like I always did in real life, my mouth slightly open. Sheets were messily tangled around my body. It looked like a photograph, but Peeta had painted it...I reached out to touch the canvas, hesitating when Peeta put his hands up and widened his eyes in alarm. I looked at him in confusion and lowered my hand. "It's still wet," he informed.

I looked from the canvas to his face in awe. "You mean…you _just_ did this?"

He nodded happily. "I had the drawing part done already, but I just painted it, yeah," he answered.

"Wow," I whispered, instinctively reaching out to touch it again but backing my hand away when I remembered it was still wet. "How long was I out?" I said in disbelief.

Peeta chuckled. "Two hours maybe," he answered.

I looked at the painting in further detail. He had painted the room exactly as it always looked, down to the items on the nightstands and the lighting of the room in the morning. "You said you made this…for me?" I tentatively asked.

"A gift," he responded, nodding. "To say sorry for having to work today when I promised you a date," he explained. "And I know what you're going to say—you don't want to hang up some picture of yourself in the house because it'd make you feel vain—but you don't have to. Really, I just want you to have it. Or know that I made it for you." He smiled.

"No…" I said, my throat choking on this sentimental feeling I had in response to the effort he put in this. "No, I love it. You can hang it up," I told him with a matching smile.

"Really?"

I nodded. I felt like I was going to cry again, but thankfully, I stopped myself. Too many emotions were happening inside me. Peeta sat back down on the couch and we managed to entwine our bodies under the covers. He wrapped his arms around me, and I liked how safe I felt in his embrace.

"You really didn't have to do all that, you know," I informed him, still looking over to the easel. He was so talented. I looked at him and pointedly said, "I love it. Thank you."

Peeta beamed at my gratitude and gently pressed a kiss to my lips. We tenderly looked at each other, and I softly smiled at him before moving into a spooning position facing the portrait. Suddenly I realized why he looked at me so intently sometimes. It was like he was studying me, remembering every detail about me. It amazed me that he had captured so many of my physical characteristics that I recognized—little things like the position I like to sleep in, and the way my hands clutched the pillow I snuggled against—but for the most part, I really thought the painting was far too pretty to really be me.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" he asked eventually, trailing his hand along my arm.

I motioned to the easel once more. "I just...have a hard time believing I look like that, is all," I told him honestly.

"Well, I would know best," he reasoned. I could feel him smile. "You always look that peaceful in your sleep…And just as beautiful awake." I wanted to roll my eyes at his corniness like I normally would, but as he kissed the back of my neck, I smiled instead.

I stretched my lazy limbs against Peeta and realized that I had to get off of this couch. "I really need to get up," I told him, unenthusiastically removing the layers we had covered our bodies with. As I stood, my body hurt from disuse, and I felt woozy from low blood pressure. I stretched again and walked upstairs. Moving around got my blood flowing a little bit more, but after opening the bedroom door and seeing our big, comfy bed, I collapsed back into it.

"So you got up off the couch so you could lie in bed?" Peeta asked in amusement from the doorway a couple minutes later.

"I'm not lying down," I contradicted stubbornly. "I'm sitting. There's just more room to stretch out."

"Whatever you say," he laughed.

I reached over to his nightstand to turn on the seldom-used television mounted on the wall in front of the bed, and as I did, Peeta noticed the mess I had compiled on my own nightstand. Amongst the clutter was the guilty evidence of my late-morning snack: a giant bowl of cake icing with a sticky spoon stuck right in the middle of it. I realized that some people might've thought I was disgusting for eating pure icing, but I craved sweets sometimes, and it was delicious to me. Plus, Peeta always had icing stocked somewhere in his cabinets. He looked at my face and smiled like it was hilarious that I'd been lying in bed licking icing off of a spoon during the waking parts of my day. "Would you like something to go with your icing, Katniss?" he asked with a laugh.

I felt myself blush a little. "Shut up…" I said, reluctantly smiling, however. Peeta shook his head, still laughing, and began to walk to his dresser to change clothes. Leaning against the headboard, I silently watched him move around as I admired his body.

He wasn't very tall, maybe an inch or so taller than I was at most, but I had gotten used to it and had grown to like it. When we lay side-by-side in the bed or on the couch we could comfortably tangle up in one another, and when standing, I didn't have to crane my neck to talk to him...or hug him...or kiss him. It was nice. He still had a strong presence in a room even though he didn't tower over everybody. It was interesting.

The white shirt Peeta had worn to work clung to his chest and made his arms and shoulders look even bigger, yet somehow not bulky. Never bulky—just right. His shoulders were masculine and broad, and his arms were defined and muscular. His strength turned me on. A lot. I involuntarily licked my lips as I wondered how much weight he could actually lift. A tiny flicker of jealousy passed through me as I wondered what the girls who came into the bakery thought of him in this same shirt, the same kind he wore almost every workday. Did they think about the same things I did? I felt scarily possessive just thinking about other women lusting over Peeta. I let the feelings pass because it was me that he was with now. It was _me_ sharing his bed at night.

He faced the dresser as he began to undress, and I was captivated by the ridges and pure definition of his back muscles as he raised his arms above his head to remove his cotton shirt. I minutely shook my head at how incredibly perfect he was. I had seriously taken him for granted…He was simply gorgeous. It shouldn't be legal to look that good.

I momentarily caught a glimpse of the same muscle definition in his chest and abdominals as he slightly turned and bent to take off his khakis, then tugged off his boxer briefs. He had next to no fat on his entire body, I assessed, as he stood nude with his back to me. Even his butt was muscular, leading down to sturdy legs. I noticed every single crevice and dip his body had—I couldn't believe how I had overlooked all of these details before. I think I began to salivate. Seeing his naked backside was the best thing so far about my entire day. I didn't understand how he didn't see how attractive he was. The only things he probably saw were scars, injuries, and fair skin, and it made me sad that he overlooked how utterly good-looking he really was.

He removed a pair of boxers out of a drawer and quickly lifted them up his legs before obliviously turning around to throw his discarded clothes in the direction of the bathroom. Finally approaching the bed, he playfully raised an eyebrow at my staring, and I smirked at being caught. Where I normally would have been shy, or at least less obvious, the painkiller I had taken was making me feel more brazen than usual. He just looked so _good_. I grinned.

"And what are you smirking at?" he asked with a toothy grin himself. He gracelessly crawled onto the bed and lay on his stomach next to me, his head propped up on his favorite fluffy pillow.

I shrugged. "Just thinking…" I said mysteriously.

"About…" he beckoned my continuance with his hand.

I shrugged again. I normally wouldn't have dared admit what I was thinking aloud, but what the hell? I was feeling a little fearless tonight. "About how lucky I am that you're…here…beside me. In bed."

His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up until he was genuinely smiling. "I'm the lucky one, babe," he replied. He sat up more fully and moved closer to me, slightly moving my jaw to turn my face to his. "You make me so happy." He placed a gentle kiss against my mouth. On his breath I could smell the aroma of the sweets he liked to sneak throughout the day. "You know that?" Another kiss. His lips tasted so good. I smiled against his mouth before I kissed him back, hoping to prolong it. Soon he backed away to lay on his pillow again, though, so I became content to just stare at him.

"You're very handsome," I told him randomly, breaking away from his eyes to look more at his body. I loved shirtless Peeta.

He grinned, looking entertained. "Are you feeling alright?" he chuckled.

"Hm?" I asked, looking at his eyes again. "I feel fine." I smiled.

"You sure?" He reached out to gently tickle my side, but I playfully swatted him away. "You sure the medicine doesn't have you seeing things?"

I laughed. I loved being like this with Peeta: worry-free and…_flirty_. In the back of my mind I knew it had a lot to do with the euphoric side-effects from the drug, but I didn't care. It was a far cry from how I was feeling for the majority of the day, and I liked it. One thing that these painkillers were good at, besides the euphoria, was making me say things without thinking. Whereas normally I'd always second-guess myself (Did that sound stupid? Ugh, how cheesy!), now I just opened my mouth without a care. I honestly said to Peeta, "The medicine doesn't have me seeing anything…I always see it. The medicine just makes it easier to say out loud."

His jovial face became a bit more serious as he listened to my confession. Then we stared at each other in silence. I was happy just to look into his eyes. They were becoming blindingly blue, with tiny little specks surrounding his shrinking pupils. Without warning, he sat up against the headboard. "C'mere," he told me in a deep voice, opening his arms and signaling that I should back up in between his legs. I did as he asked, comfortably relaxing into the hardness (yet softness?) of his muscles as he lightly began to rub my shoulders. I involuntarily moaned, and he rested his chin atop my head as his fingers applied perfect pressure to my achy muscles. I lightly rested my hands on top of his knees on either side of my hips. I was so comfortable just being with him like this. He was being very attentive.

"Sorry again about the date," he said lightly.

I moaned as he worked out a particularly painful kink I didn't even realize I had. "No problem," I muttered, shutting my heavy eyelids, not caring about anything else at the moment but the movements of his hands.

"No…I feel bad," he persisted, "I couldn't take you out…"

I groaned. "I couldn't have gone on a date today anyway, Peeta," I reasoned with him. "I mean, look at me." Still in my baggy clothes, I wasn't looking my best, and I knew it.

"You look beautiful," he simply stated. At the insistence of my earlier revelation, I believed him, but I honestly couldn't understand _why_ he thought that and proceeded to point out every current flaw about me: my nasty and loose clothes, my matted hair, my obviously swollen body…my neck…

He shook his head vehemently. "I've seen you covered in dirt and blood and still, you were beautiful," he said against my neck. "You just are." I felt his hot breath on my ear and the slight stubble of his face against my skin. It tickled, but not in a way that made me want to laugh. I shivered instead. "I really like the shirt, too," he told me, moving his palms down the side of my arms to rub the muscles there. I followed the path of his hands with my eyes and noticed that goose bumps had formed on my forearms.

"Just one of yours you never wear," I whispered back, noticing the quick escalation of my heartbeat as a result his words.

His hands stopped massaging my arms as they fell to my stomach, and his fingers lightly touched the exposed skin between my shirt and my sweatpants. Tracing the skin back and forth with his index finger, he retorted, "You make it look a lot better than I do, though." The tone of his voice had changed. . His voice became deeper…throaty…hot…

I closed my eyes. Like it had been happening so often lately, the mood had changed from flirty to desirous in the span of a few moments. I moved my thumbs around on his knees, itching for some type of touch, when I felt his hips twitch against my back. It amused me to know that our bodies were on the same page...I turned my head to look up at him under long lashes, an almost questioning expression on my face.

Peeta's electric blue eyes had turned darker, and under their intensity, I turned my head around again and tilted it back against his chest. Sometimes it became too much to have him watch me like that. I couldn't explain it—just some of the looks he gave me alone made me feel almost animalistic, made my breath catch in my throat.

He flattened his hands and moved them up along my stomach to my breasts. "Do you like this, Katniss?" he asked, keeping his mouth against my ear while delicately caressing my swollen breasts with both of his hands.

"Yes," I replied honestly, weakly, leaning backwards into his body.

"Mm, I like it, too," he whispered. His mouth was wet as he kissed below my ear, all along the sensitive skin of my neck. It briefly crossed my mind that I should tell him not to do any more damage there, but he stuck to just kissing without any reminders from me. I wouldn't have been able to verbalize the thought, anyway. He was simply sweeping me away. I couldn't help it—I turned my head around again and kissed him.

Peeta had very soft, full lips, and he kissed me gently at first, slowly…slowly. Always slowly. While his left hand gently held onto the back of my head, his right traveled across my shoulder, his fingertips brushing my neck. My mouth opened, and his tongue slid into my mouth. Our tongues moved together, swirling and probing, and I shifted my body to sit beside him.

Our kisses began more aggressive after I assumed an easier position because we were feeding off each other's enthusiasm. I sucked his tongue into my mouth and savored it. His hand dropped from my hair, and his fingers dug into the flesh of my arms and back. I put my hands on the sides of his face, wanting to devour him.

We both became acutely aware of how hard he was becoming, and suddenly his lips left mine. "We don't have to do anything," he assured me. "I know you don't feel good."

I shook my head, signaling that I had no trouble continuing. "I feel tons better," I told him, kissing him again. But I knew at the same time that nothing was going to come from this; I was on my period. I removed my lips from his and tried to still my uneven breathing. As Peeta rested his forehead against mine to try to catch his breath as well, I realized how selfish that thought was. Peeta was always the one who made me feel good, was always the first one to ensure that I had my pleasure first, regardless of his own needs. I realized now that deep inside me, I held that same power to drive him crazy with want. I could make him just as antsy as he always did to me. Just because I couldn't get anything out of it didn't mean that Peeta couldn't. I used this discovery as a new challenge: seducing Peeta.

I moved my lips to his cheek and began to slowly kiss my way to his ear, then _on_ his ear, then the bottom of his earlobe, then his neck, progressively making each kiss longer and wetter and hotter. Peeta restlessly twitched underneath me, and I smirked. So far, so good.

"_Katniss_," he whispered, attempting to pull my lips back to his by gently pulling at my neck. I wasn't going to give in, though, because he had done this same thing to me yesterday, and I had loved every agonizing second of it. I remained at his neck and lightly bit his skin as I sucked the same areas that had driven me crazy when it was his mouth doing the work. Peeta's back was still resting against the headboard, and I sneaked a peek to his lap. From the small flap in the front of his boxers, I could see the head of his erection slightly sticking out. It side-tracked me from my attempt to lead this act, and he took advantage of my moment of weakness. It seemed Peeta liked to be in charge during times like these.

The hand on my neck stayed in place as he breathed heavily into my ear, but his other hand trailed down my body and found the spot between my legs. He harshly pulled down my sweatpants and threw them on the ground. His hand met the fabric of my underwear, and choosing not to be gentle, he rubbed quick circles around and around. I found that I was already so turned on from just making out earlier that the pressure felt wonderful. There was no need for him to go slow to work me up because I was already there.

Without warning, his large, strong hands met my hips and pulled me on top of him to straddle his waist. I let loose a noise of surprise that tapered off into a moan at feeling the contact of his hardness against my panties. "Mmm," Peeta moaned along with me and sharply met my eyes. He firmly pulled me closer to his body and slightly lifted his hips up as he held me to him. With his mouth against mine, he whispered, "You feel how hard my cock is for you, Katniss?"

Wow. I'd never heard Peeta talk like that before, and I looked at him in mild surprise. I was even more surprised to find my body reacting to those words. I was bleeding, but I could still feel the tell-tale throbbing between my legs that happened whenever he took control like this, whenever I heard his husky voice whispering to me. My breaths became shaky, and I closed my eyes. My mouth dropped open as I felt his hands on the skin of my back, just barely feathering up and down. They moved to lift my shirt up, softly tugging upwards until I helped him the rest of the way. I was on top of his lap in my mismatching underwear and bra, but I didn't care. In his eyes, I almost felt sexy.

Watching me watching him, Peeta leaned forward and kissed along the swell of one breast, down my cleavage, then over to the other breast. I arched up, pushing my chest towards his mouth, wanting him to touch me, wanting him to put his tongue on me. I felt like some sexually-charged hormonal…harlot. I felt dirty. And I liked it.

Peeta reached behind my back and managed to unclasp my bra and push it from my shoulders, dropping forgotten on the bed. My nipples hardened in front of his eyes as they gently rose and fell with my quickened breathing. He bent to lick one and then sucked it into his mouth. I stopped myself from embarrassingly moaning by roughly biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut. As he suckled, his hand went to my other breast, massaging the flesh, tracing around the nipple, gently flicking it with his thumb. My hips carnally moved forward to find some type of relief, and as I made contact with him, we both moaned appreciatively. One of his hands dropped to the small of my back to pull me even closer. I found I almost couldn't stop moving my waist against his—I was losing control quickly. This was supposed to be about _him_ tonight, not me. He was just too good at all of this…

I put my hand on top of his and moved his hand from my breast as I rolled off of his lap and to his side again. He immediately shifted so we were both horizontal and attempted to cover my body with his. I firmly pushed his chest so he'd lie on his back, and I covered his mouth with mine. His hands met the back of my head, running around wildly in my hair. I boldly touched him and began to softly stroke.

"What do you want, Peeta?" I repeated words he had said to me before that had gotten me so horny. "I don't know if you don't tell me." I smirked, but he couldn't see.

"More of that," he admitted huskily.

"This?" I whispered, circling my thumb around the end of his erection. He groaned and nodded. After a few seconds of that, I removed my hand from him. At the loss of contact, he looked disappointed, but the excitement re-entered his eyes as I moved my fingers under the elastic of his underwear. I maintained eye-contact with him as I lifted his boxers up over his erection and slid them slowly down his legs. His chest rose and fell rapidly with each labored breath he took, watching the descent of my hands until he was completely naked.

With my index finger, I trailed down his chest, down his stomach, down into the light patch of hair between his legs. He squirmed and reached out to me, trying to pull me closer again. I ignored his body urgently begging for mine as I continued to trace paths along his upper thighs, then his inner thighs, touching all the areas but the one needing the most attention.

"Don't tease me, Katniss..." he whimpered. I met his eyes, heavy and dark with longing. I would have stopped, but it was too much fun.

"Who's teasing?" I asked as I lowered myself to his chest to kiss my way down, down, down.

"Baby…" He swallowed before he continued, "What are you doing?" he asked in confusion.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I whispered to him, trailing my tongue along the area between his hip and stomach.

"You know…you really don't have to do…anything..." We both knew what he was referring to.

"I want to," I told him earnestly as I placed tiny kisses along his skin.

I lowered myself until my head was between his legs. He was rigid with excitement. His…cock was rigid with excitement. I had to get used to saying it. He had said it; I could, too.

It had just never seemed to be this big before. It was something about knowing it was about to be in my mouth that seemed to double the size. I felt so inadequate. I second-guessed my confidence to do this correctly. I had nothing to compare this to, obviously. I had never even kissed anybody before Peeta, and even that had freaked me out in the beginning, but at least he was there to guide me. Now, I had absolutely nothing to go by—no frame of reference at all except what I thought would feel good to him. Hopefully that would be enough.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to compose myself, for what I was about to do. Peeta mistook my expression for reluctance and sat up a bit to try to pull me up. "Honestly, Katniss, I'm—"

"Peeta, lay back and shut up," I lightly ordered, softly pressing on his chest to push him back down on the mattress as I repositioned myself between his legs.

He raspily laughed. "Yes, ma'am," he said breathlessly.

I pushed all worries out of my mind as I let my instincts take over. If I just basically did what he had done to me yesterday, but with a few changes, everything would be fine. I could do this. I wanted to make him come undone like he had done to me so many times.

I reached out my hand and wrapped it around his…_cock_…like I had yesterday, like he had said he liked me to, and excruciatingly slowly I stroked him up and down. I noticed moisture seeping out of the hole in the middle of him and instinctively spread it around with my thumb. Peeta opened his mouth as if he were gasping, but no sound was emitted.

Leaning forward, I tentatively pressed my lips to the tip of him, like a kiss, while still softly moving my hand up and down. With full and wet lips, I placed soft kisses all around the top of his cock. His chest rose and fell in exertion, and I looked up at his face as I gently opened my mouth so my tongue could reach out to lick him experimentally. He hissed in a breath, and his stomach muscles clenched. He tasted like…nothing much. A little salty, but nothing unpleasant. I swirled my tongue around and around, like I would if we were lazily kissing. During this, his hand lightly rested above my head—not on it, but above, like he wanted to put his fingers through my hair but wouldn't.

After I'd finished licking around the tip, I moved my mouth down to the bottom and started to lick back up to the top. He seemed to like that. "Holy fucking shit," he moaned. "Kaaatniss…" I loved hearing him moan my name out like that, like he was complete putty in my hands. I loved hearing him cuss, too, something he I finally put my lips around the whole head of his..._cock_...and started to gently suck.

"Nngh..."

I couldn't help how horny I was becoming at all of this. Watching Peeta underneath me, completely dependent on the actions of my mouth…I wished that I could sit on top of him again.

I sneaked a look at his face and saw a look of hunger cross his features as he stared at me in jaw-dropping pleasure. Gaining confidence, I increased the speed of my movements and was rewarded with the sound of Peeta's groans. I tried not to think about how awkward I probably looked, especially because he seemed to be enjoying it so much. I actually found this act to be pleasant, and it increased my empowerment.

Peeta began to restlessly squirm underneath me as I honestly started to suck, slowly moving my tongue around to lubricate him more.

"Oh, shit," he said harshly. I lowered my mouth about halfway down before Peeta exploded in my mouth. The sudden flood of his semen surprised me as it shot into my throat. I was forced to back away and swallow, choking somewhat from the surprise. The taste had been something I'd never experienced before...it was strong.

Peeta immediately sat up. "Shit, Katniss!" he shouted as he scooted closer to me, putting his hand on my back and rubbing giant circles. I put my hand up to show him I was okay. I had just momentarily lost the ability to talk.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he told me, wrapping his arms around him and intently watching me in concern as I let out sporadic coughs.

**My apologies for the slow update! It might be that way lately, though, just so you all know. But your reviews and comments are appreciated and so, so nice! I enjoy them very much. I sincerely hope everyone who reads this has been enjoying the story so far. If I ever take a long time to update again, don't worry about me abandoning this. Never gonna happen. My computer broke, and I had to get a new one, plus I'm planning a wedding, plus work is crazy. Sorry! J**


	16. Chapter 16

**Peeta's POV**

In life, I didn't think it got worse than this. I didn't know if it was possible to feel any more mortified than I did right now. I had just choked Katniss. With my semen. There was nothing remotely sexy about what had just happened, and she was probably disgusted with me. I hated myself. I had just experienced the highest high of my life and, immediately, it had turned into what was surely _the_ most embarrassing moment I'd ever had.

At the moment, Katniss wasn't even able to talk because she was coughing, but at least she signaled to me that she was okay and could breathe. My face warmed with heat as I covered it with my hands. How would I ever live this down?

While Katniss went to the bathroom, I put my boxers back on and sat with my back against the headboard again. I groaned in frustration and lightly beat my head against the wood behind me. I was upset with what happened but tried to console myself internally. It had been an honest mistake…It wasn't like I planned that or anything… Coming in her mouth without warning obviously wasn't my intention; I just honestly didn't have any time to warn her. I don't think I was even able to formulate words at the time, anyway.

Nothing could accurately describe exactly how pleasurable that experience was. Feeling the warmth and wetness of her mouth fully enveloping me made me completely lose control. I'd never had an orgasm like that before…I normally felt it coming a few moments before it actually _came out_. This time, that wasn't possible. All of the different sensations I was feeling all at once literally left me no time to prepare myself for the orgasm that erupted from out of nowhere. The house could've been on fire and I wouldn't have cared at all…

Because I couldn't control myself, I had ruined the experience. I wouldn't be surprised if she never wanted to do that again, and I really wouldn't blame her. I was so pissed at myself. I was beyond embarrassed…I was humiliated. A simple tap on her head or nudge on her shoulder would've done it. A quick, "I'm coming!" would have given her enough time to move out the way. I was so stupid.

She wouldn't think that I meant to do that, right? …I didn't think she would because I had apologized so much already. But still, who would enjoy having that happen to them? She was probably just as angry at me as I was. If giving her hickeys had made her mad, I could imagine what was going through her mind right now. _Fuck._

She walked back into the room silently and pulled back the covers on her side of the bed. I tried to catch her eye to gauge how she was feeling, but she focused on the task of putting her shirt on and getting under the covers. Since I was sitting on top of the blanket, I quietly shifted around to cover myself, too. I wanted to talk, but she lay facing the wall with her back to me, and I sighed. I had succeeded in pissing her off and ruining the first time she had performed—and probably the _last_ time she would perform—oral.

I knew we had to talk about it, though, if we were going to continue doing sexual stuff…if we were going to grow as a couple. The conversation would be awkward, but it would be worth it to make her not mad anymore.

"Babe," I said lightly as I cautiously touched her arm. No reply. "Katniss," I implored. "Are you okay?" She didn't answer. "Hey," I shook her arm a bit, but she still didn't respond. She was either really mad or her throat hurt too badly to talk. Probably both.

"Okay, I understand that you're mad….and that you don't want to talk to me… But please listen, okay?" I said to her back. I removed my hand from her arm and put it in my lap where I crossed it with my other one. It was weird talking to her like this, but I had to believe she was listening.

I began to softly explain myself. "That was…That was the first time I've ever…" I sighed in frustration. How did someone word something like this? Obviously she knew that nobody had ever done that before—maybe that was enough of an excuse to explain my actions. I just wished she would look at me. "I couldn't help it. I'm really sorry. Just…just know that I feel awful…and embarrassed…and _really _sorry. Okay?" When she didn't respond, I asked, "Are you feeling okay now? I'm sorry…"

She slowly rolled around but didn't look me in the eyes. Looking at my chest instead, she admitted, "I feel so stupid."

Why on earth would _she_ feel stupid? I was feeling stupid enough for the both of us as it was. I scrunched up my face in misunderstanding. "Why?"

She shrugged. "You're just naturally so…_good_ at everything." She sounded apologetic, and I was really confused. She was complimenting me…but implying that she _wasn't_ good or something? I made her meet my eyes. What was she talking about?

"And so are you," I countered. "What's your point?"

She shook her head and looked away again, frowning. "Peeta, please. I didn't do it right, and you know it. You're just being polite."

"What are you talking about? You didn't do anything wrong, I did," I laughed. "I made you choke!"

Not listening to what I was saying, she continued dejectedly, "I…I guess I'll get better at it eventually. If you still even want me to do that again…"

She was being outrageous. Never before had I seen her act this way before—so miserable—and I hated it. I hated seeing her act like it was her fault when the blame was all on me—she had done everything perfectly. Too perfectly. My voice became ardent and loud so she'd actually listen to what I was saying. "Are you not hearing me? It was great! I loved it!"

I tilted her chin up to look at me. "Katniss…You don't need to be like this. I really liked it…I mean, I _had_ to have, right?—I lasted, like, less than a minute," I laughed nervously. It was the only thing I could do to keep myself from getting red in the face again at my lack of control. Of course Katniss would beat herself up over her presumed lack of sexual knowledge…She honestly had no reason to worry or feel dumb, though, and I told her so.

It seemed she finally believed me as her smoky eyes finally met mine to stay. "You're not just saying that?"

I chuckled. "No, I'm not just saying that," I said, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her closer to me. "Why would you even think that in the first place?" I asked in a lower voice.

"I thought I wasn't doing it right," she confessed as she shrugged. I could tell she was extremely uncomfortable discussing this. Her voice dropped so low I almost couldn't hear her. "I don't know…You know I don't know anything about this stuff…and you do."

I rolled my eyes slightly. "You know I don't know any more than you do," I countered. Well, maybe I did _a little_ because of my brothers, but nothing significant. "You…did great," I told her, feeling a little awkward giving praise in such a weird way but promptly getting over it. It was good that she was communicating with me and not shutting down because she felt bad. I even succeeded in getting a little smile from her. "Next time I'll definitely try to warn you…so that won't ever happen again," I laughed, then quickly amended, "If you want a next time."

She shyly nodded. "I liked it."

"You did?" I asked in disbelief. Whoa. Even after I had shot cum in the back of her throat, she had liked what she just did. I would marry her someday. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers in a long, appreciative kiss then pulled her even closer to me in a tight hug. I dropped my voice an octave and said in awe, "You're amazing."

She looked at me, and for a long, long time it seemed like we didn't blink. In these moments, somehow ironically always occurring in a bed…in _this_ bed…she revealed so much more to me with looks than she ever could with a million words. She exposed a side of herself to me that I had a feeling no one else got to see. No one else got to know how incredibly sweet and _good_ she was when her defenses were lowered. A tiny part inside of me liked this, however. Some strange selfish part of me liked to know that she reserved this side of herself for me and me alone. I almost felt self-righteous for thinking this, but I couldn't help it. She was my girl.

Again, I struggled with telling her I was in love with her. I really, really, really was in love with her. Deep down, I was afraid I'd scare her and she'd run, so I pushed the words away again. Truthfully, the enormity of my feelings for her scared even me. I didn't know it was possible to feel anything deeper than I already had for so many years, but she was proving to me each day that it was. I was only sixteen, but I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

I didn't dwell on any of those things too long, though, because I was immensely happy with how things were going with us, and I knew Katniss was just becoming comfortable with being this close with somebody else. After what felt like an hour of just looking at her, Katniss chuckled and spoke. "What?" she asked, confused by my longing stare.

I smiled at her, dazed. "You're beautiful." She cast her gaze downward but smiled. Before she could respond with some phrase of denial, I lowered my lips once again to hers. She wound her arms around my neck, and I sighed. She was so soft.

"I love the feeling…" I paused to kiss her again, "of your lips on mine when we kiss." And again. She smiled against my mouth. Every single uncomfortable feeling from earlier dissipated as I smiled back at her, both of us laughing when our teeth touched. We were happy.

As I held her against my bare chest, I noticed she had too many clothes on, and I wanted to—needed to—feel her smooth skin. With my left arm stretched out under the pillow, I put my right hand under her shirt to run along her side and her back, and she shivered a little at the chill of my cold fingers against her. Holding the small of her back, I pressed her against my body so our stomachs matched up, and she automatically put her left leg in between mine to be even closer to me.

My hand moved around to her waist until I rested it just below her breasts. "I'm going to take this off," I whispered, moving back faintly so I could lift her shirt over her head. She wordlessly lifted her arms and allowed me to take off the garment she had just put back on moments ago.

I embraced her again and sighed. Much better. Now I could feel her bare skin against mine as I leaned forward to kiss her once again, more slowly this time. I was starting to get kind of hard again, but right now this was about Katniss and making her feel good. I purposely averted my eyes and hands from her breasts for the time being while lightly running the tips of my fingers across her back.

I kissed her cheek softly and moved my lips to her neck, my favorite place to kiss. She had marks all over both sides of her neck from yesterday, and though I felt guilty that it had made her so mad, another part of me loved it. I felt dominant and possessive over her, which was completely unlike me, but she was so hot. And _mine_. Here, _in my bed_.

I held back the masculine control I felt inside and just barely kissed along her neck so as not to darken the spots there, though a part of me just wanted to bite and suck again and make her cry out. I kissed her lips again and thrust my tongue in and out of her mouth while moving my hand to caress her exposed breasts. They were flawless: perfectly round and made to fit in my hand. I felt her nipples harden under my thumb, and her face was flushed and gorgeous, her lips red and swollen.

Nudging my hips forward, I gently rolled her all the way on her back, careful not to put too much weight on her. Her mouth was open, so I accepted the invitation and took her lower lip in between my teeth, sucking and biting on it gently. I plunged my tongue into the heat of her mouth, and Katniss softly sucked on it. I loved when she did that. I began wishing that my tongue were between her legs again…

The thought was too much, and I drug my mouth away from hers and down to her chest. I trailed kisses in between her breasts before taking one of their hardened peaks in my mouth and lightly swirling my tongue around it while gently kneading the other.

Soon she was responding with an urgency she tried, but failed, to subdue. Though she was relatively quiet underneath me, I could tell I was having an effect on her. I could always tell. It was the way she automatically moved closer to me, the tiny clutching of my arm and squirming of her hips. It was in the way her breathing quickened. She never breathed like this during any other time, not even when she was running through the forest or when she was frustrated or when she was scared. It was a unique and sort of raspy breathing—kind of like a shudder—that she emitted whenever I did something right, whenever she was horny. Sometimes when she let me adore her like this, she would let tiny little moans slip out of her lips, too, but now was not one of those times. She was holding back, but that was okay. Her normally-cloudy eyes burned like hot steel when they scorched into mine, and I knew that her desire had taken her to another place.

I was sure that my eyes were just as dark as hers, and I squeezed them shut as I forced myself to take deep breaths. As much as I liked to _try_ to stay in control, it was so very hard when it came to Katniss. I didn't know how she did what she did to me, but she did it well. I flattened my tongue and licked along the valley between her breasts and up to her clavicle, where I placed open-mouthed kisses up her neck before finally reuniting with her lips.

Leisurely, I trailed my right hand down her stomach and snuck it under her sweatpants, above her panties. I moved the pads of my fingers just like I knew she liked me to…I was becoming confident that I was learning her body well. Her eyes opened in shock, however, and she grabbed my wrist.

"…You don't have to, Peeta," she mumbled against my mouth.

"I want to make you feel good," I whispered. She still seemed tentative, but I knew she was aroused... What was it, then? Was her period this big of a deal for her? I didn't care at all… As she opened her mouth to rebut with something else, I quieted her with a kiss and muttered against her mouth, "Oh, you're _so_ going to come."

* * *

Katniss seemed to be in a better mood when we woke up. Noticing the way she frowned from time-to-time during the morning, I assumed she still didn't feel that great, but she wasn't particularly grumpy or anything. Hopefully that was for the same reason that I was happy: we both had the whole day to finally share together. I hummed while I cooked breakfast for us: pancakes, sausage, and bacon. Katniss was outside digging around in the garden beds because she said she was feeling restless from not doing anything yesterday. Also, she had really gotten into flowers and maintaining the yard and stuff like that as a way to keep herself occupied after the Games.

Katniss had picked a lot of mixed berries the other day, so I filled a bowl with them and placed them on the table beside a large pitcher of orange juice. I smiled at nothing in particular; I was just happy. It was going to be a good day.

The crackling from the skillet was loud in the kitchen, and I also heard a lot of commotion from birds from outside in the yard. I had opened all of the doors this morning because our garbage that had been accumulating by the back door, waiting to be hauled off, was beginning to reek. We really had no way to take it to the dump without a vehicle, so last night after Katniss went to sleep, I put all of it outside in a bunch of trashcans I found behind Haymitch's place. The odor still remained, but with all the doors and windows open, plus the savory smell of bacon, I hoped it would go away soon. Technically, since we lived in the village now, we could have Avoxes as housekeepers, but I refused to do that. It was a ridiculous idea to me to have somebody else clean up your _own_ mess, and plus it made me sad.

Soon Katniss' voice echoed through the house and brought me back to reality. "Peeta!" her voice yelled, seeming to come from the back of the house.

I quickly turned off the burner because she sounded somewhat panicked. I walked as quickly as I could to the back door and saw her looking straight ahead. She didn't look at me as I approached her, so I followed her eyes. By the back wall of the house lay over-turned trashcans, and pieces of garbage were scattered literally all over the backyard—in the grass, in the flower beds, in the trees, everywhere.

"Oh, no," I said quietly as I took in the sight. Katniss finally turned her head to look at me and looked torn between amusement and frustration.

"Looks like somebody left all the trash outside last night," she commented with a smirk.

I was confused, and my mouth dropped as I thought of what on earth could have happened. "The trash was stinking up the house, so I took it out…The tops were on all the trash cans, I promise…"

She began walking around the yard to pick up the debris and put it back in the containers. "Animals have hands," she laughed. So, animals had gotten into our trash. Why didn't I think about stuff like that? I felt inadequate because I'd never been taught simple things like that before—living in the Square all my life had me frighteningly blind to every-day situations. We lived by the woods now—of course animals would get into our trash. I felt spoiled for not realizing it before.

I snapped out of my self-pity daze and saw Katniss scurrying around the yard gathering up all the garbage, and I didn't think it was right because it was my fault to begin with. "I'll get it, Katniss, don't worry," I told her, but she didn't listen. She began climbing trees to pull down random litter that had gotten tangled up in the branches from the wind. All I could really do was grab a little at a time because it was hard for me to keep bending and getting up and bending and getting up. Which reminded me that later on today we'd have to go together to get my leg re-examined by Katniss' mom.

We worked together to get the backyard looking clean again, and after the trash containers were full, I pulled them back inside by the back door where we had been storing all the bags. Katniss wordlessly drug them back outside by the back wall and put a bunch of bricks on the lids. "We need a burn barrel," she reminded me while dusting off her hands and walking into the kitchen. I nodded in agreeance.

* * *

After a long brunch, we walked hand-in-hand to the Seam to see her mom. I couldn't help myself from touching her. Just holding hands made me feel so connected to her.

As I thought more about how long this walk really was, I pondered how easier it would be if Katniss' mom moved to the village. Come to think of it, Katniss' family was supposed to move to the village together, but it ended up just being Katniss. I had never asked her about this.

"So…Why don't your mom and Prim move into your house on the hill?" I asked curiously.

She shrugged. "They don't really want to," she replied. "Mom and Prim know everyone in the Seam, and they both seem to like it there for some reason." I made a noise of understanding. We comfortably walked down the dirt path that led to the market area and Merchant's Square without having a conversation, just silently enjoying the trip together.

As we approached the square, I saw Delly walking in our direction. She noticed us just seconds later. "Hi, y'all!" she greeted us with a huge smile, slightly breathless.

"Delly! Hey!" I greeted her and gave her a side-arm hug since I was still holding Katniss' hand.

"Ooh, Katniss, your hair looks really good down," she said as she noticed the long waves framing Katniss' face. Katniss seemed to struggle with this compliment and merely smiled. "So…what are y'all up to?" Delly asked after a small silence.

"Oh, just going to Katniss' mom's," I told her, looking over at Katniss. She looked uninterested as her eyes shifted around to observe various happenings of the market. "What about you? Looks like you're in a hurry," I noticed.

"Yeah, I actually have to run—Mom is waiting on me—but I wanted to say hi," she said, looking apologetic. "It was really nice seeing you! Bye, Katniss!"

Katniss finally looked at her and told her goodbye, as well.

"See ya, Delly," I waved as she hurriedly skipped inside a nearby shop.

Katniss and I began walking again, but I noticed that her mood had changed. She was brooding. I knew this because not only was she frowning, her eyebrows were furrowed. I nudged her side with my elbow. She looked at me from the corner of her eye but didn't say anything. She was jealous.

"You-are-_so_-obvious," I commented in amusement. She, however, didn't look so amused, so I frowned. "Katniss, honestly."

"Honestly what?"

"There's no reason to act like this, really," I told her, slightly swinging our entwined hands as we trudged toward the Seam.

"I'm not acting like anything," she said stubbornly, flightily looking off in the other direction.

I sighed. "Don't let this ruin our day, Katniss," I asked of her. "She didn't even do anything." I knew that Katniss thought Delly liked me or whatever, but that exchange had been nothing but innocent. As a matter of fact, _all_ conversations with her were innocent because she was a _friend_. I had told Katniss before about how harmless Delly was, and now she had seen it first-hand but was still being unreasonable.

Katniss could be so hot-headed. She wordlessly nodded, but I knew she wasn't being genuine, so I stopped in my tracks and strongly held onto her hand. She tried to continue walking but found she couldn't move onward unless she let go of my hand, which she was unable to do. Reluctantly, she stopped walking, too, and looked at me, sighing. I knew that she would just let this stupid thing stew inside of her until she made up some unrealistic scenario of a secret love affair between me and Delly, so I had to get rid of this…_thing_…immediately.

"Delly likes you, Katniss," I told her. She didn't respond. "She really wants you to like her, too." I didn't want to guilt-trip her, but she _had_ been a little rude just now…

She rolled her eyes. Why was she being so touchy about this? Delly had never been anything but nice to Katniss.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one she wants to like her," Katniss responded, fighting her hand out of my grasp and wrapping her arms around herself as she briskly walked in the direction of the Seam alone.

"Seriously, Katniss? " She had gotten pretty far, so I caught up to her and grabbed her arm, not too rough, but firmly enough that she would stop trying to escape. This was ridiculous. We were beyond this point, beyond this senseless distrust. With my other hand, I lifted her chin to make her look at me. I was surprising myself with how self-assured I was being (just weeks ago I probably would have let her walk away), but this was important. Crucial, really.

I spoke clearly so she would understand. _Would_ she understand? "For the last time, there is nothing between me and Delly. _Nothing_. We. Are. Friends." Hopefully I was insistent enough for her to finally get it.

I moved my hands up and down her arms gently before just barely lowering my head to kiss her. The good thing about my height was that I didn't have to crane my neck to kiss her; it came easily, and thankfully, she was receptive. I pulled her close to me and confidently wrapped my arms around her. "Would I do this with anybody else?" I pressed my lips to hers and swept my tongue along her lower lip, savoring the taste there. She always tasted sweet.

We were in the middle of a crowded area with dozens of people around us hustling to and from various places, but it was just me and Katniss right now. Katniss couldn't escape reality as easily, however, because she didn't like public displays of affection. "We're in the Square," she complained, yet made no move to leave my embrace.

"I don't care," I said forcefully and put my lips against hers again as my hands met the sides of her face to pull her even closer to me.

She grumbled against my mouth. "People can see," she harshly whispered.

"I don't care," I said again, just as harshly. She had to understand—she had to see that it was only her. I asked again, "Would I do this with just anybody?" I sensually kissed her again and I sucked on her bottom lip before I slightly opened my mouth to slowly massage the tip of her tongue with mine. "Would I do this with anybody but _you_?" My tongue pushed deeper inside her mouth to meet hers again, and I relished in the taste and warmth there. "Hm?" I persisted when she still hadn't answered.

She looked flushed as she broke her lips from mine, shaking her head. I raised my eyebrows to signify that I was still waiting for an answer and she whispered, "No."

"That's right," I whispered. It was almost scary how attracted I was to her… Should I tell her now? Should I say it? No…As much as I wanted to blurt it out, it should be someplace more special than this. Seconds later she tucked stray pieces of hair behind her ears and offered her hand to me again with a smirk, and the moment passed.

Since she smiled, I thought that she was feeling better, but I could sense her discomfort and practically see the wheels turning in her mind, second-guessing herself. I looked at her. "You still don't get it, do you?" I asked incredulously. "She's really no competition if that's what you're worried about." I squeezed her hand, and she looked a little relieved. "You two would be great as friends, you know," throwing out the hint.

"It's hard for me to make friends," she answered.

"It wouldn't be if you talked a little. You're very likeable," I stated truthfully. "You're just kind of shy and it comes across as unfriendly to some people."

"Well, she was talking to you, not me," she argued lightly.

"Not true," I said in a sing-song voice. "She greeted both of us…"

"Fine. You're right, okay?"

"I know," I grinned at her, and she reluctantly laughed.

The last part of our walk was considerably better. Before we knew it, we were walking down the dirt path that led to Katniss' house. Prim startled us both when she rounded a corner, obliviously jogging all the way to the stoop at the front of her house.

Katniss was obviously confused by Prim: her hair was up in a ponytail, and she was sweaty from jogging.

"What, are you on a health-kick or something?" Katniss joked. By the tone of Katniss' voice, I guessed Prim never really went on runs that often. I didn't either.

"Rory asked me to go on a jog with him last week," she explained, "and I really liked it. It's addicting," she told Katniss in between heavy bursts of breathing.

Katniss looked skeptical. "So you're running again now, in the middle of the afternoon? In the summer?" she scrutinized.

"It's not even that hot," Prim countered, rolling her eyes. Wonder where she got that habit from. She looked at me and smiled, opening the front door to let us both inside.

Everything was the same as it'd been when we stopped by last week. I looked at the dining room table—the same that they ate off, the same that Katniss' mom worked on patients on top of. I was curious to see what she would say about my leg. I looked at it every single day when I put on medicine, so it was hard for me to notice any real difference. I prayed that she would.

"I think Hazelle's here," Prim commented as we stepped inside. Sure enough, the two women shortly walked out of a side room in the middle of a conversation. Katniss' mom looked the healthiest I'd seen her in a long time. Though skinny and fatigued, she looked happy, and that was very rare. Katniss must've noticed the same thing because I saw her eyes change. She tried to hide her emotions, but I could read her like a book.

Both of the women greeted Katniss, then me. Katniss' mom even gave me a hug. "Hi there, Peeta," she welcomed me.

"Hi, Mrs. Everdeen, hi Mrs. Hawthorne." I smiled at the women, so worn out from life but still getting by. Whereas my mother looked youthful—without a wrinkle to be found, these two women looked hardened and almost stretched thin. Not to say that they weren't pretty, because they were, even though my mother would disagree. My mom had never had to lift a finger in her life lest a nail break. I really didn't think she'd know how to survive if she ever lost her merchant status. I looked up to Katniss' mom for giving up her former life for the love of her life, and I looked up to Mrs. Hawthorne, too, for taking what life threw at her without complaint. Raising all those kids alone probably wasn't easy, yet she did it. I didn't see her around much, but I'd never heard her complain once in my life.

"Just a second, okay?" Katniss' mom said to me, holding up a finger. She and Hazelle walked outside, and I heard them chatting on the stoop while Prim collected a bunch of tools from the bathroom. As I waited, Katniss bit her nails, and I tapped my foot on my good leg. I was becoming a little nervous about what I was about to find out since I'd been in such pain lately. Maybe the leg did need to be amputated. I frowned.

Mrs. Everdeen came back inside a few minutes later and told me to take off my pants and hop up on the table. She and Katniss talked in the meantime.

"What were y'all talking about?" Katniss asked her.

"Different things. She's going through a really hard time lately."

"Is that why you gave her all the money I gave you?" Katniss blurted out, and Mrs. Everdeen sharply turned her head to look at Katniss' face.

"Yes," she supplied and turned her attention to me. Katniss waited for more, but it never came. Mrs. Everdeen began to wordlessly remove my old bandage and again pour strong-smelling liquid all over my thigh. I involuntarily jerked my leg and winced at the pain. Gritting my teeth, I asked her how it looked.

"You're gonna make it," she answered gently. It made me feel infinitely better, and I looked at Katniss. She smiled at me. "It's not ever gonna look the same," Mrs. Everdeen continued, "but it's healing, and that's all that matters."

Prim beamed at me from the side of the table where she was watching and handed me a clean bandage. "I'll be back in a minute if you still want me to cut your hair?" she asked.

"Uh, sure," I said with a smile, not wanting to admit that I was a little hesitant to have a twelve-year-old cut my hair, even if it was Prim. I was going to do it, though. How bad could it be? Prim gathered up all the equipment and took it back into the bathroom, and I slid off the table.

I reflected on the good news while redressing: I wasn't going to lose my leg, after all. There'd be a chance that I'd have to deal with pain for a long, long time, though. Maybe for the rest of my life. I figured in exchange for two legs, I could deal with that.

Once Prim left the room, Katniss targeted her mother. "What were you and Hazelle talking about earlier?"

Mrs. Everdeen shrugged. "Little of this, a little of that."

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Mom, I'm not dumb. What's going on?"

The older woman sighed heavily. "Katniss, I don't know the full story, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"And why not?"

Mrs. Everdeen was silent. "It's a lot to it." Katniss was going to have a hard time getting anything out of her.

"Does it have anything to do with Gale?"

"It has to do with everybody."

"Why can't you just give me a straight answer?"

"Because I honestly don't know everything, Katniss! And it'd be safer to just keep quiet, anyway." After saying that, she looked as if she gave something away. Katniss' eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Where's Gale?" she asked. I could comprehend why she was concerned about Gale; it would be hard for anyone to have their best friend just disappear without any warning. If only her best friend didn't have a crush on her, I would understand completely. A small part of me was happy he was gone, but then I instantly scolded myself for thinking that. Katniss needed him. She missed him…

"I don't know, Katniss, I really don't," Mrs. Everdeen provided. She looked up to stare at her daughter's face. Distrust was written all over it. "Hazelle's having a really hard time with it all. Even _she_ doesn't know why he went or where he is, okay? It'd be nice if you went over there and said something to her. Having a child just leave and not having any clue where he is…if he's okay…I can't imagine…"

Katniss squinted her eyes in sarcastic disbelief. I knew she was re-living the days after her father passed away and her mother could no longer provide for her or Prim. Even though Mrs. Everdeen had pulled herself out of her depression, I'm sure those times impacted Katniss so much that she'd never be able to forget or forgive what her mom had done. I gave Katniss a sympathetic look, and she thankfully chose to ignore the comment.

Prim began speaking before entering the kitchen again. "Okay, Peeta! Just tell me what you want and I can do it."

I sat down in a chair, and she put a towel around my shirt, clipping it together behind my neck.

"How it is now, just shorter," I told her. She snickered, and I turned my head around to look at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she giggled. "Like how short?"

"Not short-short, but shorter than it is now."

"You are so bad at this," she told me.

I chuckled. "My dad's barber has done this ever since I was a kid—he normally doesn't ask me anything, sorry."

""S okay, I think I can manage."

Conversationally, I asked, "So, how many people's hair have you cut?"

After a pause: "I'm not going to butcher your hair if that's what you're worried about."

"No, no! I don't think that," I told her.

"Just kidding! I've done lots of people's. I have lots of practice."

"Cool," I told her, then just sat there while she went to work. She wet my hair and combed it all out. I couldn't even see anything because with it flat, it covered my eyes. Normally it was wavier, messier, so it being wet made it seem _really_ long.

"So, you and Rory are jogging partners now, huh?" Katniss asked. She had sit up on the kitchen counter and was swinging her feet back and forth, bumping the bottom drawers with a rhythmic thump.

"Not really," Prim answered. "We've jogged together like, three times."

"Since when have you liked running?"

"Since he asked me to. I told you, I like it. It's addicting."

"Does he like you?"

"Katniss…" Prim said quietly.

"What?"

"Shut up," Prim said. She sounded embarrassed. Probably because I was right there and could hear everything. Prim continued to snip my hair, and I saw little blond locks all on the floor and on the towel around me.

"Does he ever talk about Gale?" Katniss asked, still talking about Rory. It seemed that she was fishing for answers that hadn't been supplied by her mother. I wondered how much she had actually been worrying about Gale lately. She never talked about him since she had read the letter, but since she was firing all these questions, I assumed she had been doing a lot of thinking about him.

"Not really. No one really knows where he is." I felt her fingers brush some little prickly hairs off of the back of my neck. "Okay, all done, Peeta," she told me, unhooking the towel from around me. "You can go look in the mirror now."

I stood up and walked to the mirror in the bathroom while Prim swept the floor and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. It wasn't how it normally looked, but it looked good. Maybe a little short, but it was summer, so I didn't mind. It looked a lot neater around my neck and ears.

"Do you like it?" she nervously asked from just outside the door as I continued examining my reflection.

I smiled at her. "I do! I love it. It looks great. Thank you!" Who knew that Prim could do such a good job?

All of her teeth showed in her returning smile. "Oh, great! I was worried you might hate it…"

"Of course I wouldn't ha—" I was startled by a booming noise that sounded as if it came from inside the house. Prim squeaked.

In the middle of all of the good news that had happened in this house today, everything suddenly took a dismal turn as the front door flew open. Two crying children ran inside the house, and Mrs. Hawthorne looked devastated, terrified, frantic. Mrs. Everdeen stepped outside into the living room, and all four of us stared at the three of them with wide eyes.

"Fire!" Mrs. Hawthorne screamed. "The house! The house is on fire!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Peeta's POV**

The blast had petrified all of us. The loud sound in the carefree environment of the Everdeens' home had made my heart rise to my throat, and I grabbed the frame of the door as the floor mildly vibrated. Peeking out of the bathroom, I saw Katniss' surprised and scared face. She hesitantly slid off the kitchen counter and met my eyes. Prim stayed put by the wall by the bathroom, and Mrs. Everdeen softly opened the door to her bedroom she had been inside.

All of us in the house looked around at each other in confusion. The weather outside was nice, and we were having a relatively calm afternoon inside the house. A light breeze was blowing through all the open windows, and the sunlight brightened up all the furniture and surfaces inside. Conversation had been easy, and Katniss had seemed comfortable, even in the presence of her mom. How could all of that be tainted in just one second? Had there been another tragedy in the mines?

After meeting Katniss' eyes, I knew she thought so immediately, and she stood in a catatonic state until the front door flew open, and in stumbled Mrs. Hawthorne with the grim news: her house was on fire.

At first I tried to downplay the blast. It had been loud…But surely it would be okay, right? It would be manageable…Maybe a broken window and a small fire…Whatever had happened—some ricochet explosive from the mines catapulting into her house or something—it would be okay. It had to be.

Mrs. Hawthorne was wild and panicky as she tried to explain what was going on, and suddenly any optimism I had been holding onto vanished. She had to take many breaths in between every few words she spoke, escalating the emergency of the situation. Because it was known that she never lost composure like this, I knew it was a big deal.

"I…don't know…" she shook her head and tried to think. "..what happened… Rory's doing…what he can, but I don't know…how big… fire is…or anything," she said breathlessly. "I had…to get…the young'ins out. Can they stay here?" She looked at Mrs. Everdeen with hopeless eyes.

"Of course!" Mrs. Everdeen said. The children were crying—the younger one weeping especially loud—and Mrs. Everdeen ushered them into her room and shut the door. Prim disappeared inside the room, as well, probably to help her mother soothe and console the kids.

Meanwhile, Katniss and I tried being proactive. However, I had no clue where to start. I knew that almost nobody in the Seam had running water, and because of that, of course there would be no hoses, either. I was really confused—How did you put out a fire with no water? Where did everyone get their water from? The lake?

"We need to get buckets! Lots of them!" Katniss shouted to no one in particular. I felt utterly useless as I looked through empty cabinets throughout the kitchen. I had no clue where anything was kept, and anytime I opened a drawer, it was just empty, so I became discouraged at my helplessness. Mrs. Hawthorne tried her best to search, too, but she was crying and shaking so bad that I suggested she sit down until we actually had a plan.

Katniss looked around frantically as she panicked; she didn't know where buckets were, either. "Dammit!" she swore. "Prim! Where are all the buckets?" She hurriedly ran to a closet at the edge of the room, bent down, and threw random objects out all over the place. "Prim!" she yelled again. "Where are the buckets?" She stood up and moved more things around in the closet. She was hysterical. "Where are the buckets?!" The Hawthornes were actual family to Katniss, so I understood and sympathized with her breakdown.

Prim reemerged at the sound of Katniss' screams and looked on the verge of tears. She scurried into the bathroom and seconds later reemerged with two large plastic containers and handed them to me and her sister. I was mildly confused because I now had a bucket in my hand but didn't know what to do with it. How were we going to do this?

We had no real plan, but we all seemed to know without speaking what we were about to do: Prim and Mrs. Everdeen were to stay here, and Katniss, Mrs. Hawthorne, and I were going to try to put out the fire with Rory.

The three of us situated ourselves, double-checking the room for anything else we could take that we might need. There wasn't much of anything, though, and we left with only our buckets. With Katniss in the lead, we marched to the door, but Katniss barely had her hand on the doorknob before it opened in her face. It hit her body with a force that backed her up into me, but she said she didn't feel anything. Rory burst into the house and wildly looked around for his mother before discovering her behind me and Katniss. "Nothing I'm doing is helping!" he screamed loud enough to echo throughout the room. "It's bad! We need help, Momma, we need lots of help!"

"We're coming!" Katniss yelled. We were all very close to each other, but the emergency of the situation had everyone screaming. Katniss ran out the door and down the street, stopping close to the burning house when she had no clue what to do from there.

Mrs. Hawthorne, Rory, and I treaded along behind her, and I took in the dismal facts of the circumstance: All of the shacks in the Seam were made of wood, and they were way too close together. The entire strip of homes could easily be destroyed if the fire wasn't contained. Already, a huge line of dark smoke was rising to the sky, so I knew that Rory was right—the fire had gotten too big.

Everybody hurriedly made their way to the house. It was only about a dozen or so houses down from Katniss's old home, so it wasn't a long trip. As usual, though, I was the slowest because of my slight limp. I thought I was the last person in our line, but I didn't see Rory up ahead anywhere. I glanced back at Katniss' house and saw that he hadn't even left the stoop yet. Prim was in the threshold of the door crying, and Rory was holding her hands, his body posed in conflict between staying to comfort her and running to the fire. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but it looked like he was trying to placate her somehow. Their hands reluctantly broke away before Rory moved away, jogging. They shared one final look that told me everything that Katniss had been suspecting: Rory didn't just like her; he was in love with her. I'd pined after an Everdeen long enough to recognize that wistful expression anywhere. He ran down the dirt road and passed me, not stopping when he reached his house. Mrs. Hawthorne continued running down the dirt road, too, apparently passing her own house with Rory to try to get more help.

Katniss wasn't paying attention to the other two and ran straight into the house. I wanted to get help with the other two, but I knew I had to be with Katniss to make sure she was safe. Inside, smoke was quickly filling any open space it could, but I couldn't see the actual fire yet. The smell and sound of wood burning assaulted my senses, and I looked around wildly for Katniss. I saw her by a bedroom door to the side of the room where the fire seemed to originate. Smoke was seeping through the bottom of the door, and Katniss covered her hand with the shirt she was wearing to try to open the doorknob.

"What are you doing, Katniss?!" I approached her quickly and pulled her away from the door. "Let's go!"

"No!" she yelled. She looked at me in a frenzy, her eyes watery and reddening.

"Katniss, we have to get out!"

As she began deeply coughing, she realized she couldn't breathe and ran back outside. I heard a windowpane shatter. With our buckets in hand, Katniss and I desperately searched the vicinity for something or someone else to help. "Where does the water come from?" I asked in a loud, harried attempt to help. Where did they get water? I felt so dumb. I knew Mrs. Hawthorne did laundry to make a living, but how did she do that at her home without running water? We weren't getting anywhere without a water source.

Katniss didn't answer me. "Where is everybody?!" she asked in disbelief, looking around and not seeing Mrs. Hawthorne or Rory. She seemed panicked but took matters into her own hands and ran behind the building. I covered my nose and mouth with my arm as the wind blew clouds of smoke into the air and followed her, yelling, "What are you doing now?!" She seemed to be running into the most dangerous areas she could find, and I was anxious with worry for her and for the imminent destruction of the house.

"Going to the well!" she yelled. I blinked my eyes rapidly to stop the burning and saw the Hawthornes' well. Realization of their water source finally made sense to me, but there was no way it was going to work. It was too close to the house to safely draw water; the wind was blowing smoke directly in its path. I tried to catch up to Katniss, but the thickening smoke made it hard to see. Crackling wood from the house made it difficult to hear, too, and my throat burned from screaming and from breathing in the smoke. My eyes stung, and I struggled to get enough oxygen.

"Oh, my God," I muttered as I actually took in the view of the back of the house. The whole back wall was gone, destroyed, burning up. I vaguely saw parts of a bedroom and living room as I tried to look through the curtains of flame. It would all be gone…they would have nowhere to live…

I had been staring in horror at the progression of the fire for too long; Katniss was in a dangerous position and needed to move. "Katniss!" I ran to her as best as I could and grabbed her arm firmly.

She initially tried to pull herself out of my grasp. Her sweaty hair stuck to her face as she wildly struggled against my strength. "Somebody's gotta do something, Peeta!"

"You can't!" I pleaded. She desperately pumped the well to fill her bucket, her face becoming red from straining herself and holding her breath. "Katniss, you can't," I repeated. Once deep coughs erupted from her chest again as a result of all the smoke inhalation, she saw logic and dragged her bucket back to the road where she could breathe in clean air. She stomped her feet agitatedly. I looked at her apologetically. I had no clue what to do.

"Rory! Hazelle!" she yelled, trying to find them and get their attention. She looked at me, gasping for breath. "Where did they go?!"

Neighbors began opening their doors and scurrying down the street in the direction of the market. Kids with knapsacks hanging from sticks ran barefooted behind their parents, none of them stopping to help, only trying to escape.

"Somebody! Help!" Katniss pleaded with the sporadic faces leaving the Seam, but still nobody stopped. She fell to her knees and cried.

"Katniss!" Rory hollered from down the road. His gait was staggered as he carried a bucket full of water with both his hands. It hit his thigh with every step, water sloshing out of the top until it was only half-full. On his way to the back where he was fixing to dump the water, he yelled, "There's a well five homes down!"

Without a word, Katniss and I ran to where he pointed and filled our buckets. We had the same problem that Rory did on the way back—the water fell out as we trekked through the dirt, forming a path of mud.

"We're never going to get anywhere with this!" Katniss shrieked as we held our breaths and dumped our buckets onto the fire. "It's going to burn to the fucking ground!" she shrieked.

"We have to try," I told her. "It'll catch the other houses on fire if we don't do anything." I wanted to stay optimistic, but it seemed she was right. The flames produced such dense smoke that we couldn't even get that close to dump the water. The heat was excruciating and didn't help, either. Still, we jogged back to the well, sweaty and exhausted already, to again fill up our buckets.

Just then, a miracle seemed to occur as loud sirens suddenly pierced our ears, echoing throughout the Seam. It appeared that the coal mine just up the road had gotten word of the accident, because dozens and dozens of dusty-looking men abruptly ran into my line of vision to help. Some with their work-pails in hand and some holding larger buckets, they stormed into the house. Some stayed outside and recruited help from a few able-bodied neighbors. Eventually, after surveying the interior, the men came back outside.

"Ain't no use in it! It's done for!" a younger man to the front hollered.

Another man retorted, "It's gonna spread if we don't smother it! Come on!"

The men formed a bucket brigade, and I took orders from the others who knew what to do, anxious and more than willing to be of service. Tons of people lined up from the well to the side of the Hawthornes' house to pass buckets of water to extinguish the fire, and any women who wanted to help formed a separate line to pass empty buckets back to the well to be refilled. Mrs. Hawthorne and Katniss, of course, joined the line of men along with me and Rory. I thought the whole process would be too slow and archaic, but there really were no other options.

As everybody got into position and the work began, I observed the process more carefully and noticed that the residents had seemed to have perfected this act. Everybody was beyond competent and precise, and we moved together as a team as quickly and efficiently as we could—_very_ quickly, it turned out. I barely had time to pass a full bucket to my right before another one was being passed to me from the left. It seemed like this had had to have been done in the past for such precision to have existed.

At the bakery, we kept buckets around just in case there was an accident, but we had faucets to quickly fill them up if we needed to. We also had hoses to attach to outdoor faucets to ensure that the whole establishment wouldn't be destroyed in the event of an emergency. In this situation now, however, each little squirt of water had to be hand-pumped in the bucket. I couldn't imagine…Yet again during this long day, I hated myself for how easy I had always known life to be.

I became robotic, mechanical. Pass, pass, pass. Bucket after bucket after bucket. Water sloshed out of the containers, making progress appear slim, but we slowly made improvement. I let my eyes wander a little bit and noticed I was the only blond in the lineup. Everyone else was dark-haired and tan—most covered in coal dust—so I stuck out pretty obviously with my pale skin and blond hair. Some people looked at me in mild confusion as I joined the effort to put out the fire, but we were all so wrapped up in our job that nobody stopped to ask anything. I knew what they were thinking, though. Rarely did anybody from Merchant's Square affiliate with the Seam, and I could tell that they had a negative opinion of "my kind," no matter how they tried to hide it. I knew with moroseness that it was because they all assumed "my kind" had a negative opinion of them.

It was distressing how so many people from the Square talked badly about people from the Seam, and vice versa. I wished that we could all just live as one. It made no sense. All I could do was continue in my efforts to interact with everybody in the District and hope that maybe one day everybody would see reason. I was working side-by-side with the coal miners because they needed the help. It was astonishing to think that some people—maybe some of my own family?—wouldn't be helping out just because they thought the house was worthless. I had a feeling some would even go so far as to say they would be happy to see it burn.

Fire-fighting was painstaking, frustrating work. I couldn't tell how long it took to finally contain the fire, to finally overpower it. Once we'd made some development, a charred wall would collapse or crumble and just spread more air to feed the fire in another section of the house. We tried to save any part of the house we could, a tiny room, even just a picture frame or a doll—yet our combined efforts were still no match to the inferno. We ended up extinguishing the fire after a very long time, but we couldn't salvage anything. The house had already burnt to the ground.

My body ached from the effort it had taken, though essentially all I did was stand in line and retrieve a bucket from my left and pass it to my right. My adrenaline had temporarily killed any pain I was feeling in my muscles and my thigh, but as we stopped working and stared at the smoldering remains of the home, every part of my body screamed.

The only positive thing about our work was that we prevented the fire from spreading to the neighbors' houses. That was a phenomenon because they were so close, but no one was rejoicing about this victory. The Hawthornes' house was gone. They had no possessions left but the clothes they wore.

* * *

Much later in the evening as the sun begin to sink, Hazelle stood on the stoop in front of Katniss' childhood home with tears smudging her sooty face. She held a handkerchief to her nose as she shook her head slowly in disbelief. Katniss slowly approached her from behind and put her hand on her shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, Hazelle," she said, staring out at the distance, too.

"Thank God that we had that big rain, Hazelle," Mrs. Everdeen murmured. "Think about how much worse it could've been if things were dry…"

No one wanted to hear any positive words of enlightenment, though. What did you say when somebody lost everything they owned? It was devastating.

"Hazelle?" Katniss said hesitantly. The older woman turned her head. "All of y'all are more than welcome to move into my house…You know, the one up on the hill…"

Mrs. Hawthorne nodded her head. I could imagine on the inside she was feeling very relieved and grateful, but at the moment she was in shock. Her face barely changed expression. As the sun turned the sky a pastel purple before dusk, all of us sat on the stoop in silence. We were cramped together but found comfort in the closeness.

It had seemed like hours since this morning. So much had happened. So much had changed. It was unbelievable how such a planned-out day—haircut, leg examination, car-shopping, spend time with Katniss—had so suddenly discoursed. There were questions running through my mind—probably all of our minds—that I didn't bother voicing. What had happened? _Why_ did it happen? And why did it have to happen to this family that had already lived through so many catastrophes?

As the sky turned dark and the crickets loudly sang around us, we made no move to get up. Prim stayed inside with the children, who were probably asleep by now, but Katniss, her mom, Mrs. Hawthorne, her son, and I just sat. Soon in the distance I heard marching footsteps and turned my head. Cray and another Peacekeeper I had never before seen appeared, nearing the stoop closer and closer. An ominous silence befell.

"Hazelle Hawthorne?" Cray asked, though I was pretty sure he already knew her name. He knew everyone. She nodded her head, and imperceptible confusion passed her features.

"You're under arrest," a Peacekeeper I had never seen before said, stepping forward.

Mrs. Hawthorne's confusion turned to visible shock, and she found her voice. "What on earth for?"

"There's residue of explosive-making devices in your home."

I struggled with what to do or say. I struggled with whether I even _should_ act or speak out. I didn't want to be a coward, but talking back to a Peacekeeper had serious repercussions, and I wanted to be healthy and alive for Katniss and her family. My mother only got a threat of pain for questioning authority the other day, but everyone knew what the Peacekeepers were capable of.

Katniss was the only one who dared to say something, and I was scared for her. "It probably came from the mines! That's no reason to _arrest_ her!" I looked at Katniss with eyes that screamed "stop!"

The other, younger Peacekeeper flashed his eyes at Katniss' insubordination. "I think I know how to do my job, young lady. We've investigated, and the material originated from inside the house, with a calculated force of detonation extending outwards. I have further proof, but you have no right to have knowledge of it."

I was perplexed by whatever any of what he said meant, but Katniss still argued his points. "That makes no sense," she said with force. "It _couldn't _have come from inside their house!"

"It couldn't have come from the mines," he said coldly with finality.

"There's no possible way you could have calculated—"

The Peacekeeper lifted his hand and swiftly slapped Katniss across her face. Our eyes simultaneously became as wide as proverbial saucers. "Katniss!" all of us shouted. I immediately wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, my eyes shining in disgust at the man.

"She was just asking for information, sir," I said, trying to deescalate his temper, internally despising him for hitting a woman. "We're just concerned about what happened." Any further arguing would just make things worse. The man grunted.

We could do nothing but helplessly watch as a situation none of us pictured worsening worsened. Cray made Mrs. Hawthorne put her hands in front of her with the insides of her wrists touching. He placed her hands into a metallic device that the other Peacekeeper held and pressed a button. A few seconds later, after the machine emitted a bright light and a loud noise, Mrs. Hawthorne's hands were released with her palms and every single one of her fingers glued together. A similar device shackled her ankles together. Shamefully, she looked down at the dirt road before the two men walked her away.

She turned her head around to all of us watching in horror on the stoop. "Watch after the children," was her final plea, and we watched the two Peacekeepers escort her away until there was nothing left to watch.

Everybody was crying except for Rory and Katniss, whose faces looked devoid of hurt. Burning anger was all I could see on Katniss' face, and Rory's expression was unreadable. I was devastated, but I could still think clearly enough to try to work out a reasonable course of action, or I would be able to shortly. It looked like revenge was on Katniss' mind, and I rubbed her shoulders to try to ease her emotions.

I looked at her face. "Are you okay?" I asked her gently. She nodded. I still couldn't believe that guy slapped her, and I futilely tried to examine the handprint on her cheek under the dim light emitted from candles inside. "I'm _fine_," she told me.

"They're gonna kill her," Rory said emptily. "They're gonna kill my mom."

Mrs. Everdeen attempted to help. "She's probably just going to be questioned."

"If poaching is reason enough for execution, I would say a _bomb_ would be!"

At that, Katniss jerked her head to look at Rory. "Rory, tell me what happened, and tell the truth," Katniss demanded.

His eyes looked down the road towards the direction of the mines that had such a big role in his family. "I can't."

"Like hell you can," Katniss told him sternly.

"No, I can't," he said louder as he walked past everyone to go back inside.

Katniss followed him immediately, and I heard their conversation from the opened window.

"Rory, what the hell is going on? Gale up and leaves, my mom gives your mom all my winnings money, you have a bomb in your house which has now caused it to completely burn to the ground, and now your mom's been arrested!"

"The Peacekeepers are gonna do what they're gonna do. The Capitol does what it wants."

"Okay, Gale Jr. I'm asking for answers, not this vague Capitol shit. There's something going on."

"If you were meant to know the answers, he would've told you, okay?!"

I tip-toed inside to see a frustrated Rory and an even more frustrated Katniss by the light of a few candles. They barely paid any attention to me as they continued speaking.

"Listen, Rory, all of you could've died. I'm Gale's best friend, okay?

He sighed heavily. "Maybe I can tell you soon, but not right now. Not today."

Her fierce eyes examined him. "Are you okay?" she asked Rory. It was a loaded question. He didn't reply, and she frowned.

"None of us are safe," he whispered.

**Katniss' POV**

Mom asked if she, Prim, Rory, Vick, and Posy could move into Victor's Village tomorrow, and I told her I thought it was a good idea. They'd do it tonight, probably, if Vick and Posy weren't already asleep. They had no clue what had happened to their house or their mom. They just knew there had been a fire and everyone was working hard to put it out.

With Hazelle in the custody of the Peacekeepers, it would be best if Mom moved everyone nearby. There was enough room that nobody would feel crowded, and it was already furnished and had running water. I bet everyone would love the luxuries of modern-day toilets and baths opposed to outhouses and the boiling of well-water they were all used to. I don't think it would outweigh the misery of having all of their possessions gone, though. Even if it wasn't much, it was theirs, and God knows Hazelle had worked hard for everything they had. Now it was gone. Unbelievable.

I could help with the kids, too, with everyone living nearby. No one knew where Hazelle was or how long she would be kept. This fact hovered over all of our heads, but we had to just move forward. The village also was closer to the woods for Rory, but I wasn't sure now if either of us should be going back there any time soon. After anything serious happened, everyone was always wary, because of paranoia of the possibility of momentarily-increased security. Of course, there was always Rory's statement that "none of us are safe," but really…when have we ever been?

I didn't want to be in the Seam anymore. Too much had happened in a short amount of time, and I was feeling too much. I needed time to process it all and to de-wire. I didn't want to talk anymore, or worry anymore, or hurt anymore. I wanted eternal sleep.

Peeta and I left, dragging our lifeless, sore bodies back home. We held hands part of the way, but after a while I lost the energy to even extend my arm, and I dropped his hand. We journeyed in complete silence because we were so fatigued. I just focused on getting home. As we passed the Hob, though, a weird sound piqued my curiosity and I ventured off the path just a bit to see what on earth it was. What I saw just iced the cake on this horrible day.

A man's naked backside was visible in the distance, barely illuminated by the light from the Seam and some lights from inside the warehouse. His pants were gathered at his ankles, and a skimpily-dressed woman was bent over in front of him, holding onto the trunk of a tree and making crude, high-pitched noises. The man had his hands on the woman's hips, and his own were moving erratically back and forth. My initial confusion turned immediately to astonishment as I realized what they were doing.

My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened in shock. I only had a second or two to take in what I was seeing before Peeta's hands gripped my shoulders and steered me away. He put his arm around me tightly while attempting to quickly walk away, but for me, the pace was relatively normal.

I heard Peeta muttering angrily under his breath, but nothing he said was understandable. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and saw his jaw set in a rigid line like he was clutching it. His eyes focused in front of him, so I looked ahead, as well, as we made our way back home. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about what we'd just seen, so I remained silent as I couldn't help but replay what I had just witnessed over and over again in my mind. I had a dirty feeling within me that I had just seen something I wasn't supposed to see…that I wished I hadn't seen.

We saw the light from our front porch illuminating the path up to our house. Haymitch's was off; he never turned it on. Peeta and I walked up the steps together, and he pulled the key out of his pocket to unlock the door. He wordlessly opened it for me, and I stepped inside. He quietly followed me inside and immediately went into the kitchen to busy himself with making tea.

I collapsed on the couch feeling a mix of emotions. My body throbbed, and everything from the day washed over me. Gale's house just burned down because of a bomb exploding inside of it. A Peacekeeper slapped me and arrested Hazelle for no reason. The kids had no parents around anymore. I saw a lewd sex act taking place. My cramps felt like they were back again, especially in my lower back.

And now things were a little awkward between me and Peeta for some reason after I saw what I did a little earlier. I was disgusted and very shocked, but he was _mad_. It was very rare that I saw Peeta mad enough to act like he was now. I watched him from the couch. His face was hardened in anger, and his muscles were clenched as he opened and closed cabinets a little too firmer and louder than he usually would.

"If you're mad that I witnessed that, I'm not a child, you know," I reminded him lightly from the living room. The house was quiet, so my soft voice was enough. My throat hurt too badly to speak any louder.

"You still shouldn't have seen it," he said quietly, yet harshly, as he watched the teakettle on the stove.

I wanted to get up but was glued to the couch. "It's fine. I…I'm not _scarred _or anything, Peeta. After what happened today, that was nothing."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I just can't believe the nerve…"

I slightly shrugged. "But didn't you say that…that there were prostitutes there after dark?"

He nodded but kept his back to me as continued staring at the stove.

"So you knew they did stuff…like that, right?" I still couldn't wash the memory from my mind though I tried and tried. My mind was on overdrive, and I couldn't make it stop swimming. What was replaying in my memory looked so loveless and wrong, like the man was using that woman or something.

"I did know," he told me. "It's just so disgraceful…Beyond disgraceful. Disgusting. I don't know how he lives with himself."

"You knew who it was?"

He turned around and met my eyes for the first time since the incident. "You didn't see who it was?"

"No," I answered in confusion. "Was I…supposed to?"

"You saw what he was wearing, right?"

I shook my head. "I didn't see him wearing much of anything." He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his pants were around his ankles. So what was he referring to? The pants? The pants…were white. Realization flashed in my eyes, and I dropped my mouth. "A Peacekeeper?"

He solemnly nodded. Then I knew who it was. Infamous for sleeping with Seam women who were desperate for money, the Head Peacekeeper, Cray, would pay to sleep with them. Sadly, it was widely known, but I had never really expected it to be so…so…I don't know, so repulsive. After what happened with Cray earlier in the evening, I became pissed off, too. Everything was so unjust.

"Everything about this system is corrupt and horrible," Peeta said, matching my thoughts. "Cray makes an arrest one minute, then the next goes and does…_that._" My eyes became wide in horror as the teakettle screamed. Had that been _Hazelle_? Peeta read my expression, and, closing his eyes, said, "No, it wasn't her." Thank God. Though I didn't like that it was someone else, either.

Peeta poured us each a cup of tea and walked into the living room, placing the cups down on the coffee table by the couch. He grimaced as he sat down and sank into the cushions.

"Drink up," he told me while nodding toward the cup of tea. "It's supposed to help you sleep a dreamless sleep." I burned my tongue and throat because I swallowed it all in a few giant gulps.

* * *

**So, in my haste to publish Chapter 16 last week, I left two sentences unfinished...EMBARRASSING! Hope I did a better job this time.**

**Also, I'm working on a new blog. Just to warn everyone, it's extreeeeemly NSFW. It's just pictures I've been finding that correspond to some of the steamier moments in this fanfic with the quotes and stuff underneath them. :shrugs: I like it-maybe you all will, too. If you're 18+, that is. sunrisesurprise tumblr com is the website, just add the dots where they go and all that good stuff.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Peeta  
**Katniss stuck out her tongue and fanned it with her hand.

"Babe, why'd you drink it so fast?"

"Wasn't thinking…"

We were sitting on the couch side by side, and though I was filthy and reeked like a charred woodstove, Katniss rested her head in my lap and closed her eyes. I automatically buried my hand in her hair and gently brushed it with my fingers. Still in a pretty agitated mood from seeing Cray, the action relaxed both of us.

"You good?" I asked her.

"Mm." The tea had the desired effect of putting her to sleep within minutes. Soon she was breathing deeply and evenly, using my sore legs as a pillow. I looked at her tenderly as my hand moved slowly throughout her hair, happy that at least she was able to get some peace tonight. I, however, was too wired to even attempt to close my eyes and relax. Though I was physically exhausted, I was mentally on-edge.

After I drank my own tea, I managed to carry Katniss up the stairs and tuck her into our bed. With her slack in my arms, I mostly used the muscles on my right leg, but it was impossible to not use my left one at least a little bit. At that moment, I really wished that my leg could just be chopped off. I really, truly did. I was so sick and tired of it hurting. Mrs. Everdeen had said that it was getting better, but maybe I had irreversible nerve-damage or something. I was pretty used to it by now, of course, but I was tired of _being used to it_. I wanted to just be a normal guy that didn't have a horrific gash on his leg, multiple scars covering his body, bruises on his face…

I lightly tried to climb into bed beside Katniss but ended up being really clumsy because it was dark (and because I guess I'm a clumsy guy). I was worried that I would wake her up because usually she was hyper-vigilant even when she was dreaming. Some nights she'd even wake up just because I shifted a little bit on the mattress. I didn't know if the arena had done that to her or if she'd always been like that. My movements tonight didn't startle her, though, because she continued to breathe heavily. That was good. That meant that she was already in the deep stages of sleep, and I was relieved.

I placed my head on the pillow and turned to look at her, noticing that her face looked almost peaceful, as it always did when she wasn't awake. I was glad she was beginning to rejuvenate her mind from today's catastrophes at the Hawthorne's, but as for me, I was far from being pacified. I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened just in this one day.

So much had been taken away from that poor family. Mrs. Hawthorne had lost her husband, her oldest son, and now her house and everything in it. And those children had lost their mother—for how long would she be gone? And in what condition would she come back? When would life be better? I'd always been a pretty optimistic person, but there seemed to be no silver lining to living under the Capitol's tyranny, especially when it was so abundant. Cray was going to town earlier with that woman _right outside the Hob_, for Christ's sake. Technically, it was dark, but not _that_ dark. Anyone could've seen… I mean, in the warm summer months like this, kids could've been outside playing or something and could've walked right up on the two of them. It was ridiculous.

The irresponsibility of it seriously ticked me off, but what pissed me off the most, though, was that Cray was even doing that in the first place. And that Katniss had to see that crap. It was widely known that Cray paid poor Seam women for sex, but the fact was easier to disregard if you'd never seen it before. Actually seeing it, though, was very, very sad. Sad that women were desperate enough to resort to such measures, and sad because he literally _just_ finished arresting Mrs. Hawthorne. It almost seemed like he got off on having the power to ruin a family's life, like he couldn't keep it in his pants any longer and just had to go to the Hob. After his friend had _slapped_ Katniss just for trying to stand up for Hazelle. And I couldn't do anything but stand there and watch while it happened. I felt more and more inadequate to protect her as I thought about everything that she'd been through tonight.

I brooded on how appalling the Capitol was for a long time. The Peacekeepers were appalling. Katniss was pretty much the one thing that made me feel better, the one thing that kept me going and made me forget, although just momentarily, about the outside world. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be even more pathetic and depressed than I already was. She made me happier, period. I still doubted that I made her as happy as she made me, still wondered if I had the same effect on her that she had on me…

I hadn't mustered up the courage to voice my love for her yet, but I had a feeling that saying "I love you" wouldn't even dent the surface of my emotions. Would she ever know how much I cared for her? Physical pain I had proven I could deal with, yes, but now I was experiencing some type of twisting in my heart. It hurt. I loved her so much that it hurt me. I didn't know how that was possible, how I could be so sad just staring at her sleeping, but the longing I felt permeated my pores. And what for? All because I had some notion that I wasn't good enough for her…

I was so tired that my mind was taking me to all types of places I didn't like, choosing to recount every bad memory from today and my entire past until they were all just swimming around in my mind, festering.

I sighed and pulled the covers off of my body. I wasn't going to be able to go to sleep, especially if I kept thinking about all of this self-deprecating crap. Sometimes it was hard not to, though, especially tonight since I was feeling so insufficient to fix any of the problems going on.

It was funny that sometimes when my body was the most worn out, my mind would be on overdrive and make it impossible to doze off. I thought about drinking more tea, but I made the stuff so often that it didn't really affect me anymore. Though I badly desired sleep, I figured it was a lost cause and rose out of the bed.

I could've stayed up all night just watching Katniss, studying the little noises she made in her sleep, watching her chest rising and falling again and again, but I didn't. My mind raced; I was fidgety. I had to do something. I walked downstairs and contemplated what to do to tire my mind.

Without really thinking, my feet led me to the drawing room. Though I was trying to stray from my bad memories, I automatically remembered that the other day I had mentioned in front of my mother that I called this room the "drawing room," and she made fun of me for it.

"A drawing room is a parlor, you dumbass," she had said. I didn't tell her that I _knew_ that, and that it was supposed to be kind of a joke because I _drew_ in there. I didn't tell her because she thought that my art was a stupid pastime anyway, one that was "gay." And God forbid she be publicly judged as being the mother of a "fag." My two brothers were big and surly, and they—not me—made her proud.

I sighed and tried to forget about her and about how I would have to go back into work soon. I shuffled about the room, trying to find something—anything—to do. In the corner of the room sat a large desk full of finished and half-finished paintings of mine that had been long forgotten. I didn't worry about opening it up to complete any of them, however. Instead, I grabbed a sketchbook on the top of the desk and took it outside with me.

I'd seen horrible things today, and I thought that maybe drawing them might be therapeutic. It was kind of a morbid thought, but nobody had to see them. Nobody _would_ see them anyway. I'd just put them in the drawer with all the others. Sitting down on the porch swing with just my sketchbook and a pencil, I drew. Using just the light from the porch's lamp, it was like my hand wasn't even attached to my body; it was its own entity, moving on its own accord and drawing things automatically. Sometimes I got like that—so into what I was doing that I was almost robotic. But it worked.

I pressed down hard when needed, stabbing into the paper until I feared it would rip, then more lightly in other places. I used my finger to shade the appropriate areas, meticulously creating a realistic depiction of a certain image from today that was scorched into my brain. My wrist began to get numb, but I didn't stop.

A long time later, my hand and mind finally agreed that the sketch was finished. I didn't know how long I had been out there on the porch, but as I blinked my dry eyes to get a little bit of moisture back into them, I realized that I was still amazingly wide awake. Leftover adrenaline, I guess?

I held the drawing out in front of my face. There before me was the "finished product" of a line of people in the throes of putting out the fire in its largest state. The flames towered above everybody's heads, the house almost indiscernible in the haze from the smoke in the air. Mrs. Hawthorne, Rory, and Katniss were the easiest to discern in the big line of people because I spent the most time drawing their figures. And I always looked at Katniss no matter what she was doing, so I felt like I captured her especially well. Even with just a pencil, you could see in the drawing that she was frantic yet focused, intense yet worried. Her face was fiery and angelic at the same time.

I couldn't stop thinking about this particular memory because I was really amazed at the willingness of Katniss, Rory, and Mrs. Hawthorne—and everyone else from the Seam—to unite for a common purpose. Despite a few people who fled the area, most of the Seam residents teamed together without anybody even asking them to. What had happened was tragic, but there was still some underlying humanity that could be found among all the chaos. Too bad that all of the horrible things that happened made everyone blind to this little optimistic moment.

Closing the sketchbook, I tossed it beside me and stood up to stretch. Eventually I walked down the steps of the porch, aimlessly wandering around the yard. Katniss had been doing a good job planting flowers and stuff. All of the plants around the yard were looking great. Dozens of grasshoppers jumped all throughout the grass and flowerbeds, moving all the leaves from her plants in the dim light from the moon. Crickets rhythmically chirped, and I wondered what they were talking about.

I breathed in deeply. The air was thick and humid tonight, and it stickily stuck to my skin. I looked down at my arms. They were grimy all over and moist with old and new sweat. I should probably take a shower. I really had to pee, though, so before I went inside, I shamefully did something I could picture Haymitch doing and went right where I was standing. I unzipped my jeans and conspicuously began peeing in the grass since it was so late that I didn't have to worry about being seen. At least that was what I thought, but just then a gruff voice came out of the shadows and scared me so much that I messed up my aim and peed all over the bushes in front of me.

"Boy!" Haymitch hollered loudly, witnessing me in a pretty embarrassing state. "Are you drunk or somethin'?"

"Jesus, Haymitch," I muttered so he couldn't hear, zipping up my pants and turning around. "No," I answered him as he approached our yard, "I'm just…out of it, I guess."

"Oh…well, I am," he told me. Though I hated his habit, I still managed to smile. As usual, he was holding a clear jar of liquor in one hand, and as he reached my side, he offered it to me silently. I stared at the jar and contemplated for a long time about whether I should try to self-medicate so I could sleep or stand by my beliefs and shake my head like I normally did when he asked if I'd like a drink.

In spite of how much I hated Haymitch's alcoholism, I accepted his offer and blindly swallowed what he handed me, almost immediately twisting my face up in agony. Whatever the stuff was—the same old moonshine, I supposed—it couldn't be good for his body. It just couldn't be. I struggled with worrying over him and wanting more, so I swallowed another large swig of liquor, shoved it back in his grasp, and then rudely told him I was going inside to sleep and that I'd see him tomorrow. I didn't wait for an answer as I walked back inside, turned off the porch light, and went upstairs into the bathroom to shower, leaving my sketchbook forgotten on the swing.

With my smoky clothes in a pile on the floor, I started the shower and watched as the steam filled the room like I always did. I felt a little dizzy. I had just drank moonshine for the first time in my life, and I had drank quite a bit for me in the span of only a minute. Now it was catching up to me. My eyes drooped, and I noticed that I felt more relaxed than I had all day. The thoughts about today's events disappeared finally, and I felt a little happier for no other reason than the alcohol. I could still feel the burn from it all the way from my throat to my stomach, and it spread throughout my arms and legs until I felt like my blood was swishing all around inside.

I looked down at my feet while I slightly swayed. It was then that I came up with a great idea. What went better with a shower than masturbation? Along with the alcohol in my blood, cumming would _definitely_ relax me so that I could finally get some sleep. I wondered how good it would feel with the little buzz that I had, and, feeling mischievous, I anxiously entered the shower.

I had to close my eyes to take myself away from being in the shower and to another place altogether. I made up a scene from a deserted beach from District 4 I had once seen a picture of. I couldn't swim, but it'd still be sexy to see Katniss in a bikini, so that's what I went with. I was lying on my back in the sand, propped up on my elbows and staring straight ahead at the most stunning sight imaginable: Katniss was emerging from the ocean, walking slowly through the waves crashing around her legs until she came to a stop where they crested around her feet. Her hair was dark and dripping wet around her face, her skin as radiant as the sun and deeply tan, and she looked at me like I was something to eat. I felt my cock tingling and felt the ache in my balls as I thought about it.

Knowing what she was doing to me, she would begin to take off her bathing suit and watch me as I watched her. I eagerly envisioned her naked body moving as she lifted her legs to let her bikini be forgotten in the waves underneath her. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly walked closer to me, her perfect hips moving back and forth as she finally got to where I was and lowered herself on my lap where she felt me fully aroused against her.

I thought about how it would feel to actually have her on top of me naked, straddling me, breasts in my mouth, hands all over each other's bodies. The entire time I was picturing this, I had my eyes closed as my hand moved like a blur underneath the spray of the water.

Having a buzz from the alcohol made this ten times better than anything I'd ever experienced. It was _so_ good. I felt like I had been in the shower for a very long time, so I furthered my fantasy to help me along. Naked myself now, I pictured Katniss on top of me, rubbing against me, kissing me, moaning into my mouth. I looked down to see Katniss no longer moving her hips against me but instead raising them to allow me to enter her. My breathing was insanely short and ragged, and the thought of my cock actually being enveloped by Katniss' warmth was all it took for my pleasure to explode. I tried to be quiet, but I groaned loudly as my orgasm rode out for what felt like an eternity, and I came all over my hand.

I took my hand away from myself to rinse and regained my breathing as I slowly opened my eyes. Standing right outside the shower, able to see me through the tiny crack from the shower curtain, was Katniss. What the hell? She had just literally been out cold…Her face was unreadable, but if I had to guess what she was feeling, it would be shock because of how wide her eyes were. Shit, shit, shit.

It was obvious what I had been doing. She saw me, she heard me, she…caught me. Exactly how much had she seen? As I stood there under the water stupidly thinking of something to do or say, I came to terms with the fact that _I was drunk_. I was spinny, and Katniss was outside, and I had no clue how I was supposed to feel about that.

"You're—you…" she began to say. I stayed silent. The whole situation was beyond awkward, but it shouldn't have to be. I wanted to hug her and kiss her and tell her I loved her, but I had a feeling she was upset. I opened the shower curtain and stepped out to say something to her. Seeing me naked and dripping wet, she said in a rush, "I—Sorry, I'll just go."

My mind yelled, "Wait!" but my mouth wouldn't say the words for some reason. She left the bathroom before I could get her to stop.

I hadn't really done anything wrong, had I? So why did I get the feeling that she was mad at me? Was I supposed to feel shame? Because I didn't. All I felt was confusion from her reaction. I dried off, wrapped a towel around myself, and crawled into bed beside her. She was lying in the opposite direction so I couldn't see her face.

"I-I thought you were asleep," I told her lamely. She didn't answer me, and the seconds dragged on like hours while I sat with my discomfort. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore, and I gently shook her shoulder while saying her name so she would talk to me.

She still didn't roll over to look at me and seemed agitated while she huffed, "Can you just leave me alone? Please?"

I was becoming a little annoyed. I was so tired that I couldn't even make an effort to talk to her about her feelings, and her mood threw me off. "I-I…What do you want me to say, Katniss? I'm sorry I find you attractive?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Peeta," she told me, writing me off.

"Fine," I answered with a sigh, knowing that arguing was pointless. I wasn't in the mood for fighting, anyway. I was too tired…Where was this even coming from? Why couldn't we be happy?

"Fine," she copied. I was kind of hurt, kind of mad, kind of annoyed, and very weary. Eventually I could tell that Katniss was asleep again, and a long while later I allowed myself to relax the best I could. Our bodies didn't touch while I tossed and turned beside her that night.

**Katniss  
**Even with my eyes closed, I could sense that the room was no longer dark. The glow of the morning sun had woken me up. While stretching and groaning disorientated, I blinked a few times at the brightness piercing through the window before squinting my eyes and turning my head to look at Peeta. He was already awake, his worried gaze fixed on my face like he was waiting for me to do something. I didn't feel like talking or even fully waking up, so I rolled back over and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I had just had a horrible dream and wanted to go back to sleep so I could replace it with another (hopefully more pleasant) one. Luckily, I fell back asleep within seconds despite the light and sounds from the stupid open window on the other side of the room.

It felt like I had slept an entire day when I finally opened my eyes again to see Peeta awake again (or still?), his eyes meeting mine with the same concerned look as before. I always caught him watching me sleep. Sometimes it was endearing, but right now I didn't know what to think about it. I remembered something weird had happened between us last night, but I couldn't exactly recall what it was. As I sat up and slowly came back to reality, the fuzzy memories that I had first written off as nightmares came more into focus, and everything from last night came crashing back to me. _It had been real, all of it._ The explosion, the fire, the arrest, even seeing Cray with that woman against a tree. Oh, dear God, so much had happened yesterday. And my body hurt so badly.

The dread I felt deep inside me confirmed that what I remembered was real. The vague memory of what exactly had happened between me and Peeta came back to me, too, and though that memory wasn't as clear as the others, I hoped that he would just forget that I had stumbled in on him _touching himself. _I never really thought about him doing that, but of course he would, right? He was male. I guess I wasn't enough for him and he had to take care of himself in other ways. I made an effort to push that completely out of my mind because I didn't want to address it. And there were more important things going on in the world than some stupid way I felt.

"Hi," I mumbled as I sat on the edge of the bed without really looking at him.

"Hi," he answered politely. His voice sounded weird. "How'd you sleep?"

I groaned while stretching and shrugged my shoulders. I was so tired, so groggy, and all of my muscles were unbelievably sore. I probably could have slept more, but I was disgustingly still in my clothes from yesterday and needed to shower. The whole bed probably needed to be stripped and washed because, stupidly, I had fallen asleep in it without even bathing. I didn't even remember coming upstairs or getting in the bed… I was so disoriented. My entire body felt like I had been kicked by a thousand mules. I was bleary and exhausted, and now that I was awake, I couldn't stop worrying about Hazelle and Gale and the kids. I fretted over what was going on and about how utterly useless I was to fix any of it.

Millions of worries assaulted my mind, and I closed my eyes and put my face in my hands. Feeling like I was going to have an anxiety attack, I drug my body to the bathroom to shower off the layers of disgustingness from my body, still without saying anything else to Peeta. I didn't feel like talking. The shower only served as a reminder about what I was trying to avoid, so I went through the motions of scrubbing and rinsing at record speed.

Afterwards, I went downstairs and out the front door to lay on the porch swing. We would have to go to the Seam later on to move stuff from that house to the one up here, but I didn't have the energy just yet to make the journey. I dreaded walking all the way down there and all the way back up here, which reminded me that Peeta was going to look at cars but never got the chance. I scoffed at myself. What a freaking great thing he did to get mixed up with me…A poor girl with a poor family and poor friends who constantly have horrific life problems that they _just don't ever have_ in the Square. Peeta probably resented everything occurring right now. I wondered when he'd finally just get fed up and leave. I couldn't have predicted that there would be a freak explosion leading to a fire that would ultimately burn down the Hawthornes' whole freaking house. What other things couldn't I predict? Hazelle's fate, Gale's fate…_my_ fate…All types of emergencies that Peeta was right in the middle of.

Lost in my depressing thoughts, I didn't notice the little girl coming up the hill until she was already on the porch beside me. Well, she wasn't little anymore. I could no longer deny the fact that she was growing up. I didn't know how I felt about that.

"Are you okay?" she asked without greeting. I really wasn't, but I nodded anyway. I hated to worry Prim or make her upset in any way. Hopefully my nonchalance was believable.

"So, uh, we're all moving today." She pointed next door to my never-used mansion. "We kind of need a little help getting everything up here. And I know nobody feels up to it...but do you think you might be able to lend a hand? We've been packing all morning, and some of the stuff is too heavy for us to lift. Rory's doing what he can," she trailed on quietly, "but we—"

I interrupted her. "Yeah, yeah," I said agreeably with a smile. "Of course I'll help." I selfishly wanted to say no deep down inside, but I would never have really said that. Of course I wanted to help—it was just that whenever I moved, it felt like my arms and legs weighed a hundred pounds. It was going to be another horrible day.

Knowing that I had the ability to get through the day, though, I faked having a lot of energy and swung my legs off the porch swing and sprung up. After opening the front door, I yelled loudly inside the house so I could tell him I was leaving. "Peeta!"

He had been in the kitchen and looked at me like I was rude, probably because I had yelled right in his ear. I didn't know he was there…

He saw Prim and smiled and waved, and I was suspicious if it was genuine or not because something was off about it. I couldn't pinpoint it. Maybe it was because he was tired. Maybe it was because of the unspeakable incident last night. I examined his face. He had blood-shot, puffy eyes, and red splotches here and there where his Mom's brutality was wearing off. His face sagged somewhat, and his eyes looked sunken-in and dark. In other words, he looked completely exhausted.

"I'm going with Prim to help them move, okay?" I told him.

"Give me a minute," he said, "and I'll go with you."

"You don't have to help," I told him, "'cause I know that you don't feel like it. You can just stay at home, and we'll be done soon." _So you can stay here and do what you really want to do anyway._

He swatted away the offer. He must've felt some strange obligation to help. I tried talking him out of it one more time, but he wouldn't hear it. Soon, the three of us trekked back to the Seam.

A neighbor had leant Mom a covered wagon, and that was a huge help for the whole moving process. I doubted that moving all the stuff in my childhood home would take even four trips, but it was just that there were some heavy things that were difficult for even me, Peeta, and Rory _together_ to move. Dad used to make our furniture from trees he'd chop down, and those pieces were the sturdiest and heaviest things in the world. But they lasted.

Though he didn't complain, I could tell Peeta was in agony the entire time he helped. He was progressively getting moodier as the day went on, and though I sympathized with his condition, I wished he would just go somewhere else because he was being so uncharacteristically grumpy.

"Peeta, seriously, just go home and rest," I asked of him.

He immediately responded by lifting a table and walking out of the door to load it on the wagon. Maybe it was a guy thing. Whatever it was, it was starting to agitate me because I felt like he thought I was _making_ him help when I knew his leg hurt, and that wasn't the case at all.

I knew his leg was getting better, but it still obviously pained him, especially after last night's emergency. Hell, my legs were sore, so I knew his had to be. Helping Mom and Prim move all of their stuff up to the village just hours after putting out a fire probably wasn't what he had in mind. But like I had told him, he didn't have to help—we wouldn't be mad at him either way. Noble Peeta acted like it wasn't a problem, though, and nobody else could tell he was unhappy but me. The air was thick between us.

As the day went on, his mood was making _me_ unhappy. I had become more and more aware that _his_ happiness made _me_ happy, but I just now realized that the same was true for his _unhappiness_. I didn't know how to feel about that bit of realization. I shouldn't be reliant on somebody else's mood to make or break my day.

Peeta was in the back of the wagon, shifting items around. No one had any horses we could use, so Peeta had to make sure that the weight was distributed evenly so he would be able to drag it. "I'll just take this if y'all have the rest of this under control for now?"

"Yeah, sure," I told him, still put-off by his strange attitude. He began to drag the wagon wordlessly, and I was confused that he wasn't waiting on me. Usually we worked together, side-by-side. "You're going alone?" I questioned.

"Yeah," he yelled back. "I'll get a head start so I can start unloading it in the house."

Well, that made sense, but it still felt odd to watch him leave alone. I had a bad feeling it was because he wanted to get away from me.

I went back inside to help organize some more stuff to go in the second wagon load, which we all thought would be the final one. I couldn't stop thinking about how none of Hazelle's kids had anything left. Nothing to play with, nothing special of just their own, nothing to wear. Their clothes had gotten soiled with sweat and dirt—especially Rory's, since he was by the fire—and they didn't have anything to change into. We found Posy some old clothes of mine for her to wear, but unfortunately, Mom didn't have any hand-me-downs for Vick and Rory since they were boys.

Peeta came back just as we finished putting bags of belongings outside to load on the wagon. The entire house was empty and had been swept, and now we just waited on the stoop outside. We were talking about clothes right when he stopped in front of us and dropped the wagon loudly. He was sweaty from his hair down.

When Peeta suggested that everyone go shopping with some of his money, Rory refused. He was so much like Gale that I wanted to shake him. I understood exactly where he was coming from, though. I hated taking charity from people because I always felt like hard work would get you the bare minimum of what you need. Actually, the only charity I'd ever taken in my life was coincidentally from Peeta. He was very generous. He'd probably buy stuff he thought would fit the kids later on in the week.

The trip up to the village was pretty smooth with all of us helping push or carry the weight of the wagon. Everyone was happy that they didn't have to load, push, and unload it another time. Once we got everything moved into the house, I excused myself because I couldn't help anymore at the moment. Stuff needed to be unpacked and furniture needed to be rearranged, but I was done for the day. Maybe tomorrow. But now I needed water and more rest.

Peeta and I walked into the kitchen together, and I poured both of us a glass of water. He lifted his glass from the counter and walked to the couch. I watched him walk away. Normally he would say thank you or _something_, but he just wordlessly drank his water, sitting alone on the couch..

"What's your deal? You've been in a bad mood all day," I confronted him in the living room.

He shrugged casually. "Not really. I could say the same about you, though."

"Hmpf. I haven't done anything for you to suggest that," I told him. "And besides, when am I ever in a good mood?" I added grumpily.

"A lot of the time…when you're not trying to avoid an unpleasant topic."

"Huh?" I asked. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've worked my ass off these past few days, and I'm tired. That's it. I know you are, too, but you _didn't have to help today_. That's what I don't get. You didn't have to even come."

He didn't even respond to anything that I said as he resituated himself on the couch. "How about we actually sit down and talk about this giant elephant in the room? I know what you're thinking, Katniss, and not talking about it isn't doing any good."

Ughhhhh. No! I didn't want to talk about what I _knew_ he was referring to. I could put on a brave face when it came to fighting in the arena, or defending myself or Prim, or hunting, but talking one-on-one about sexual things was something that I doubted I'd ever get used to.

I couldn't deny that I liked hearing and seeing him in pleasure, but at the same time, I felt kind of…betrayed. I felt like an idiot for feeling that way, but I thought I had done an okay job the other night at making him feel good, or so he told me…so why was he touching himself? Was the other night not enough for him? Or did I do it wrong? I started to think that maybe it had been too long since we had done anything, and he wasn't satisfied with me anymore. Or he was some secret sex fiend that had to do that all the time and I just never knew about it.

The logical side of me tried to calm my worries down because knew that this happened, knew that it was what guys did. But the over-analytical side of me couldn't stop worrying over it. I'd never actually considered _Peeta_ doing it. I always thought that…I don't know…that the sexual things that we shared together were kind of special. It was ridiculous for me to feel how I was feeling. And I sure as hell wasn't about to talk about it.

I put on a front. "What are you even talking about?"

I was still standing, and he scooted inches closer to me on the couch. The next time he spoke, his voice lowered. "Can you just tell me what exactly it was that upset you about…that?"

He was trying to be sweet, but his insistence to have this conversation was frustrating me. I attempted to defer the conversation and didn't meet his eyes. "Can we not talk about this? Please?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw that he looked extremely annoyed as he heaved a sigh. "I'd like it a lot better if we did talk about it. What's so wrong with me finding you attractive?"

I had my mouth open, ready to retort, but quickly closed it. What he said had made no sense. "Huh?"

"I don't get it. So I find you attractive…you should be happy."

I began saying things without thinking, not even sure if it was what I felt or not. "Happy that I'm not enough for you? Happy that you have to go and…do _that_—" I gesticulated in front of me with my hands "—so you can make yourself feel however it is that _I_ can't—"

"Katniss, you have to know it's not like that!" he interrupted.

"What the hell do I know?" I screamed. I didn't even know what that meant, but now that I was in the zone—the fighting zone—I was on a roll. I could do this all day as long as we didn't have to discuss the real matter at hand.

I waited for him to yell back, but he didn't. Instead, he heavily sighed, as he'd been doing a lot. "I'm exhausted. Physically and mentally exhausted. And I don't have the energy to argue with you, Katniss. Especially not about something stupid like this."

I looked down at him and crossed my arms. "So I'm stupid now?"

"No! That's not what I said!" He sighed again in frustration. "I don't understand why you're being so…so _sensitive_ about this. Is it because of your period?" My eyes flared at him, and his became wide with horror. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Yeah, it's _allll_ because of my period. _Too bad_ I'm bleeding, right?"

He looked at me in confusion. "What?"

"I said too bad I'm bleeding. Or else you could just use me for your pleasure like you obviously want to."

"What are you even talking about?"

I turned to leave the house and muttered, "Nothing."

In a few strides, he crossed the room to meet me by the door. "No," he said firmly as he placed his hand on top of mine that had just rested on the doorknob. "What does that mean? Is that really what you think?"

I heaved a sigh. "Why does it even matter?"

He scoffed. "'Why does it even matter?' What the hell, Katniss? Why are you being like this and saying this stuff? I don't understand what exactly I've done wrong. Honestly, is that really what you think? That I just want you for your body or something? What have I done to give you that impression?"

This entire conversation was making me severely uncomfortable. I didn't like talking about it, and I wished I hadn't even witnessed what I had in the first place so this topic—and this fight—could just be avoided altogether.

When I didn't answer him, he tried to make amends, but that was short-lived. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, Katniss. Seriously. I'm tired as hell, my leg hurts, I haven't gotten any sleep—"

"Well, that's not my fault! And neither have I, you know!"

"I didn't say it _was_, Katniss." In the moments when I didn't respond, he snapped: "So I wanted to relax for a small fraction of the day and went and jerked off in the shower; excuse the hell out of me," he huffed, taking his hand off of mine. I was really taken aback. I'd never heard him talk to me like that before, or talk like that at all. I had succeeded in pissing him off.

For the first time, I met his eyes. Their usual blue innocence was gone, and instead, his pupils burned into my own, looking deep down into my soul and thoughts. I looked away, afraid that he had sensed the fear deep inside me. "You're being so extremely difficult," he muttered.

Again, I couldn't face the topic. "Well, I've told you a million times now that I don't want to talk about it. So I don't want to fucking talk about it!" I shouted. Why couldn't he understand that?

In the back of my mind, I knew I didn't mean hardly anything that I had been saying, but when I got mad, it was just second-nature to spurt out mean-spirited things without second-guessing their hurtfulness. It was cathartic. At least now I was aware of what I was doing and was actively trying to stop before I did any more damage. I had probably annoyed him enough. So why wouldn't he just let me go?

"I really _do_, though," Peeta said. "I really do want to talk about it."

"I honestly don't care. Please just let me go," I muttered. At that, he looked defeated.

"If that's what you want," he murmured. He walked back to the couch and sat on it again. I lightly opened the front door and looked back at him. Before I closed it behind me, he spoke in a voice louder than he had yet, "And you do too care."


	19. Chapter 19

I stood on the porch for a few seconds before running down the stairs and down the main path of the village. Any soreness in my body was pushed aside by all the adrenaline I had from shouting and arguing with Peeta. I had once heard that pain was just weakness leaving the body, and that's kind of how I felt now—that the underlying soreness in my bones was just proof that I could be strong. That I _was_ strong.

But wouldn't the stronger person face what they didn't want to? I stopped walking and thought about that for a second. I knew that I'd have to go back so that we could talk; Peeta obviously needed to. And I should probably apologize for my behavior, too. I always responded to situations with my body first and then actually _thought_ later. Sullenly, I turned around and went back to the house.

I opened and closed the door quietly, like I was a sneaky daughter coming back from someplace I shouldn't have been. Peeta was sitting on the couch in the same spot as when I left. He lifted his face and watched me kick off my boots. "Nice of you to come back."

"I just…had to think for a minute," I explained.

"Yeah, I've been the same," he mentioned quietly. I just stood there by the door, frozen and feeling awkward. Any apology was stuck in my throat because I wasn't comfortable with the tone of his voice. He was in a bad place…I had pissed him off, and I dreaded what he had been thinking about in the short time I was gone. It couldn't have been good. "Could you sit down?" he asked me, gesturing to the empty space beside him. "Please?"

Reluctantly, I drug my socked feet on the floor and plopped down on the couch, away from him. I hugged my knees to my chest in a small, protective ball while I looked at him expectantly, my mind-frame already defensive towards what he was going to say. I knew it wouldn't be good. I knew my behavior had been horrible lately and that I should say sorry for it, but at the same time, I had been bothered all day by _his_ behavior. Something was going on with him. I braced myself for the continuation of our argument.

His eyes met mine. From where he was sitting on the other end of the couch, he seemed so far away. "First of all, I'm really sorry for snapping at you. I'm just really exhausted and…haven't been thinking right," he said. With his bloodshot eyes circled with black, I knew he meant it. And I was sure that I wasn't helping matters by being so challenging earlier. I thought it was interesting that, as usual, he was apologizing and I couldn't find the words to do so myself.

"Why don't you get some sleep, then?" I suggested in an attempt to be friendly and forget all that had happened just minutes ago.

"There's just too much on my mind…" he answered. "We've really gotta talk, Katniss."

Again, his words had a troubling ring. Maybe all of his thinking had been about ending things between us, stopping this nice little arrangement we had been having lately. Maybe he had been sitting here thinking long and hard about how mad I had made him and that he would be happier without me messing up his life. That he was tired of my shit.

"About what?" I asked.

"You _know_ what." His eyes moved away from mine. "What we were _just_ talking about." He paused, probably steeling himself for a retort from me, but I finally had worn out the phrase "I don't want to talk about it" because it obviously wasn't working. Peeta wanted to discuss what had happened last night, and I couldn't get out of the conversation anymore, so that's why I didn't say anything at all. I had accepted the fact that, as much as I dreaded it, it had to be done.

I had little energy left to fight this anymore, so I decided to let him do most of the talking since he was the one who wanted to talk so much in the first place. I put myself in the most passive mind-frame I could and told myself to not open my mouth and cause any more damage than I already had.

Peeta easily predicted what I _would_ have said if I hadn't already given up: "And I know you don't want to talk about it…And fine. I get that." He was silent for a second to double-check this fact. "You…still don't want to talk about this, do you?"

"Not particularly," I commented quietly.

He nodded. "Could you just listen then?" He rubbed his hands on his knees, looked at me as I nodded, and then jumped right into his speech. His hands moved a mile a minute in front of him while he said more words in one breath than I'd ever heard him say before. "I should be mortified about this whole entire thing. I should. I should be embarrassed that you caught me doing that, but surprisingly, I'm not, okay?" His words sounded harsh, but then he said quieter, "Well, maybe a little embarrassed…but it's _you_, Katniss. I mean, we've done so much together already that I don't really get why is has you_ this_ upset…"

I didn't offer any suggestions for him, still stubborn in my resolve to let the topic fade out. "Maybe it's just…just…" He struggled to explain his next thought. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but I just think you're so uncomfortable with the _idea_ of masturbation that you're trying to pretend the whole thing didn't happen by not talking about it." When he was finished, he looked at me hopefully, expecting a reaction. Trying to see if he was right, I guess. Which he was, basically. And because of that, I was becoming nervous and more defensive because I felt like he could see right through me. It was hard for me to come to terms with that, even after all we'd been through together. I couldn't face the fact that I'd already allowed him so far into my heart that he knew me inside and out. I didn't want him to know I was so insecure about not being good at all this sexual stuff that I was just trying to push the topic away.

"Am I right?" he questioned after staring at my visage for a few seconds. "Is that all it is? You're just…weirded out by it? I may second-guess myself a lot of the time, and sometimes I'll admit it takes me a really long time to figure you out, but I feel like know you pretty well…"

Again, he was right; he did know me very well. It only served to make me more uncomfortable. "No, you don't," was the only thing I could squeak out.

He chuckled ironically. "I do, though. I _do_ know you well…But I just cannot figure out why you're avoiding this _so_ much unless it's the fact that you're weirded out…Or intimidated…" My eyebrows furrowed. Where the hell was he going with this? He looked at me like he wanted me to respond, but I didn't, so he continued. "You're a fiery person, Katniss. You have passion. You're interested in sex and sexual things, _very_ interested…very passionate…And you know it, too. But facing sexual stuff sometimes scares the hell out of you—especially talking about it—because it's unknown territory. You like to know what you're getting into before you jump into things…

"And that's why you're so comfortable in the forest," he added, not even with speculation but with adamancy, "because you know every single thing about it. You've had a long, long time to get to know what everything looks like, everything's name, color, and smell…whether something in there will harm you...And if something in there _will _harm you, you know how to defend yourself. But with _this_ stuff, you don't know. I'm not saying that in a bad way _at all,_ because, hell, I don't have experience either, but this is where we're different: I feel like I can be completely open with you about…well, sexual things…like masturbation…and I don't feel like you can. I just want you to be open to talking with me about them, too."

I wanted to drop my mouth in shock at the audacity he had to say that to me. (Hadn't I thought the exact same thing earlier, though? That I lacked the bravery to discuss sex because it was just too strange to discuss with words? And here he was being completely candid with it.)

"Say something," he ordered after a long and uncomfortable pause.

"Peeta," I said as calmly as I could, even though I was on edge, "I don't know what more you want from me. I…I _have_ been open with you." Shortly afterwards, I amended, "I _am_ open with you."

He raised his eyebrows. "You've been running from this topic all day," he pointed out. "_And_ last night."

I didn't know what to say in response because he was right about that. But so what? I had been open about basically everything else—with my body _and_ my mind. I counted off instances in my mind that proved this: I let him see me naked tons of times. We showered together. I let him put his hands in my pants multiple times, and vice versa. I had been straight-forward the other day with how horny I was and _grinded_ against him on the couch, not even caring how loud I was. I let him use his mouth and tongue on me. He even put his fingers _inside_ me. Then I used _my_ mouth and tongue on _him_. _I swallowed his semen. _Just thinking about all of that stuff made me surprised because I hadn't realized how much we had actually done together. It was becoming intense for me.

Not even counting all the sexual stuff, I felt like I had been open in other ways, too. I had cried in front of him more than I had ever cried in front of anybody in my life, _ever_. I confessed stupid inner thoughts about missing my dad and Gale. We even talked about having fucking _children_. Just thinking about all of that stuff made me really confused as to why Peeta was accusing me of not being open with him, and furthermore, it was angering me.

"Just because I don't want to talk about this _one thing_ doesn't mean I'm running from it," I argued. After everything that had been happening in the past two days, I just didn't want _another_ thing on my plate to deal with.

He looked incredulous. "You literally just did, Katniss. You _just_ ran away. You do that a lot when you don't like something about a situation. Or when you get really emotional," he muttered.

Though he sounded moody, he was still being completely civil. I couldn't help but raise my voice, though. "I'm sorry, okay? So what if I don't want to discuss this _one_ stupid topic at length?! What the hell is the big deal?"

My response must've sparked something inside of him, so he raised his voice, too. "Katniss, you don't get it! I just want you to talk to me! Not just say mean things on impulse and then run away just to come back and say sorry each time!" He rested his head on the back of the couch with a loud sigh. "You obviously were…_are_…bothered by it. I. Don't. Get. It. I don't get why, if it made you that uncomfortable, you can't just talk to me about it? I just want to know what I did wrong so I can change it! …So I won't make you feel that way again."

Resolutely, I said, "It's _fine_, Peeta. You're a guy. I'm stupid for not realizing you did that."

He looked confused and didn't respond for minutes. The silence was cheerless. "Why do I feel like you're still being distant? That, for some reason, there's more to it than just that?"

I shrugged. He sighed again.

"Babe," he said, sitting up taller and emphasizing the word, "it's just me here. It's _me._ Why…Why can't you just talk to me?"

Normally I liked it when he called me that, but now I was perturbed. "I _am_ talking to you. Sorry I can't measure up to exactly how much you want me to be _open_ with you," I said sourly.

He shook his head and laughed contemptuously. "I hate to say this, but sometimes I feel like you're playing games with me or something."

"How?"

"I don't know if I'm going crazy or what," he mumbled. "But I really don't know what to think sometimes."

I felt challenged, like he was curling insults at me for no reason. He was over-reacting big time in my opinion, and I needed to fight. I had been silent for too long, had been docile and unresponsive because I knew that I would say more things that I didn't mean. But now, I made the choice to drop my filter. "Think about _what_, Peeta?"

"Your behavior. The things you say. I try to make sense of it, and I always think I do a pretty good job at gauging how you feel, but now I'm just…I'm just so confused right now."

Since he just knew me _so fucking well_, he probably knew my mood had shifted and knew what I was about to shout before I even opened my mouth, so he interrupted me before I even began to argue his point. "Just hear me out, babe, please," he said amicably, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm not trying to criticize you or make you feel bad in any way at all. I'm just telling you how it seems from my point of view, okay?"

He looked at me in pure exhaustion. "I…" He sighed. For someone who had so much on his mind, he sure was having a hard time spitting anything out. "Sometimes I feel like I have you completely figured out, like I can read your thoughts almost…or know your feelings just by looking at you." Just at that moment he _did _look at me, and I stared back at him blankly, almost challenging him to read me now. What did he see? Could he tell how insecure I really was deep inside, how I felt "not good enough" in every single way? How was it even possible to read me when I always tried so hard to remain impassive? "But other times," he continued, not commenting on the unspoken tension just then, "I feel like you hide so much from other people. And sometimes from me," he added a second later. "Like you put up all of these walls that are so hard, so tall…that…even I can't get through."

"I really don't, though," I retorted. Why was it so freaking hard for me to just admit that he was right? I didn't understand myself…my constant need to fight any criticism. All I could think of was, _I _have_ been open with you, I _have_ been open with you_.

"You really _do_, though," he gently corrected. "It's just in your nature to, but I wish you wouldn't do it around me. There's no need. I'd never do anything to intentionally make you unhappy. And all I ever want is to just know what you're thinking, how you're really feeling. And when you don't tell me things, all it really does is just force me to try harder and harder to figure out what's really bothering you through all these layers of…of"—he used his hands to find the word he wanted to use—"of mystery," he settled with.

As I was silent and just soaking in my own weird angry depression now, Peeta began to muse aloud, each word and each sentence making the hurt inside me expand and grow. How had I not realized how I had been affecting him?

"So, like I said, I kind of came to a conclusion about why you don't want to talk about this topic. Even if it might not be right…But I haven't really found an explanation as to why you're being _this_ stubborn about it. I just don't get it. I've thought about everything it could be. I've thought about how it may have severely freaked you out, but then I already said that I didn't think it was that because I know you're naturally curious, and how could _that_ freak you out when we've…when we've done _other_ stuff together, you know?

"Then I thought, well, she probably just thinks I'm gross or that I do that all the time. But then that wouldn't really make sense because you should know me pretty well by now and you should know that I'm not a secret sex addict or something…or that I have to constantly go sneak off to do that so I can function…

"So then, I asked myself, is it just because she's afraid? And I tell myself that that's what it must be, and I even can understand why that is. I've liked you forever, and you should know it's you I think about when I do that…always. And I know it must be really…I don't know, freaky and overbearing for someone else to say to you, 'Hey, I've had a crush on you for years,' and then having to just accept it, especially if you never liked me to begin with, or even knew who I was," he chuckled darkly. "And I already said how I've noticed how you get in unfamiliar situations. So maybe that's what it is…that we jumped into this too fast…that you're not comfortable because of that…Because it's all one big unknown, and you're terrified by it…"

I didn't know how to respond to that, as I hadn't been able to do since he asked me to sit down with him on the couch. I hadn't realized how much thought he had been putting into how I'd been acting and how his conclusions were basically correct. I felt like the hugest bitch. I _was_ the hugest bitch.

"But then you seem so completely _unafraid_ around me sometimes," he continued, "like you're a hundred percent comfortable in my arms, like you _really_ like me, too. Sometimes you even seem happy, despite everything that's going on." When he said that, my heart melted. I had been hurting him. I was really, _really_ pained inside. I didn't know how on earth to fix any of the stuff that I hadn't even been realizing I had been doing to him. "And that's where all of this stuff just shoots around my mind…Like…what should I even think? Is it all one big game?" he asked rhetorically.

"It's not a game, Peeta!" I cried out as earnestly as I could. "We've already talked about this before. It's not a game!" I might as well've been silent again, though, because he didn't believe me. He didn't even comment on it.

"You know," he commented after taking in my scarce words, "you're kind of a paradox sometimes, Katniss. You say you like me, but sometimes you don't even act like it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Whenever I do something to express how much I like you, how much I want to be with you, you-you-you retreat or something," he said in a fluster, lifting his hands above his head. "You act like you like it when we're together, then immediately after, it's like I don't even exist!"

My mind raced as I struggled to process everything he was saying. That offended me. That wasn't true at all. So I was a little uncomfortable with talking in detail about him _touching his penis_; I wasn't treating him like he didn't exist.

"And you're right," he went on, not giving me time to rejoinder, "we _have_ already talked about this before…And I was thinking back on a lot of the conversations we've had about this _very same thing_…and every time, it's like we've taken those poppy seed things and are feeling all floaty and happy. And it makes me wonder if it's just the drugs that are making you say those nice things. About how you care about me and stuff."

I had been staring at my knees for the last few minutes, feeling more and more horrible by the second and not knowing what to say to amend any of the hurt I'd already caused, trying to fight the boiling anger occurring inside me at the same time. Obviously he was really bothered by my behavior; he never talked this much. Then, suddenly, his speech took a wild left turn, and it was hard for me to keep up. He was changing topics quickly, and when he mentioned the poppy seeds being the only reason I would say nice things to him, I was floored. At that moment I felt low…just so, so low. The entire reason I hadn't been able to deal with Peeta touching himself in the first place was because I secretly felt inadequate, and now here he was basically naming every other way that I _was_ inadequate.

More than merely being bothered by this, I was getting legitimately hurt, and it was coming out in the only way I knew how to express it: anger. I didn't hide my scowl as I finally opened my mouth to retort.

"I _do_ mean it when I say I care about you. How could you say that?" I half-sobbed, choking on the urge to cry. I knew I would be crying by the end of the night. The emotion was inside, threatening to explode, but I continued to hold onto it. I was stronger than that, dammit.

"If you're just pretending or something, or if you don't want this, if it's too much, just let me know," he said, ignoring what I had just said. "Please," he implored, "for my sake, just be honest with me."

"I _do_ want this!" I exclaimed, pleading. I knew what was to come from all of this. This was it. This was when he was going to tell me he was sick of my shit, that he didn't want me around anymore, that I could just take all my stuff and move out. That he wanted someone just as perfect as he was and that I just wasn't that girl. "I will admit that…sometimes I say some things I don't mean, okay? I..I..I just do, and I can't help it."

"Exactly."

"—But I mean everything else, Peeta!" I finished explaining.

"Katniss! Do you realize how little sense that makes? You say that you don't mean the bad things you say, yet you still say them. So, logically, how do I know that you're being honest when you say all the good things? When you say you want me? When you say you care about me?"

"Because—because—Peeta!" I said in exasperation and fear, not being able to explain myself clearly and terrified that he'd see how desperate I really was for him not to leave me. "It's not like I say 'I hate your guts' or anything! I might get caught up in the moment and slip something out, but it's—"

"Then why say it at all?" he interrupted.

I smacked my lips. "I wouldn't _lie_ to you, Peeta."

"You have before…"

I groaned. "And we've discussed this! It was to save our _lives_, Peeta. And those were really different circumstances, wouldn't you say? Wouldn't you say the fucking _Hunger Games_ would give reason for me to use a little strategy?"

"I get it, Katniss. You had to act like we were in love so we could get sponsors. It made sense, and arguably, it saved our lives. But you don't have to keep pretending now, just because you feel bad for me."

"If you think I'm _pretending_ when I say nice things to you because I _pity_ you, then screw you, Peeta! You should know by now that I mean it when I say I care about you, especially if I've said it more than once. And not because of the freaking poppy seeds!"

"Well, I thought you meant it in the arena…" he trailed off.

"And we're not _in_ the arena anymore, in case you haven't noticed! It's just me and you! It's just _us_, Peeta!"

"That's exactly my point!"

"Huh?"

"That's my point! It _is_ just us. So you should be able to stop this god damn bluff and just tell me what's going on."

"I'm not bluffing."

"You're not being honest," he quipped right back.

I gesticulated in front of me out of frustration. "How am I not being honest, Peeta?! I haven't lied to you at all!"

"Katniss, we're going around in circles. Technically, when you say things you don't mean just because_ for some reason _you don't want to own up to how you're feeling or something, that's being dishonest! That's dishonesty! I'm not asking for much here! Just for you to open your mouth and say, 'Hey, Peeta, I was uncomfortable when I walked in on you masturbating because it made me feel like all you think about is sex.' Or 'Peeta, I wasn't even sure how I felt because I didn't know you did that.' Or anything else! Just s_omething_! You've been avoiding it this whole conversation!"

I looked down. I really wanted to cry now. I hadn't realized just how much words had an effect on him—any words, and any lack thereof. ".I just…I don't have the words…I don't know what else to say besides sorry," I said genuinely. Still looking down, I silently let a few tears fall onto my jeans. I was such a bad excuse for a person.

He looked pained at my expression but didn't come near me. "You…" he sighed. "God, I really don't want you to cry."

"Then stop saying these things," I demanded, angrily wiping at my eyes. I felt like I knew Peeta fairly well, that he trusted me enough to talk to me about stuff on his mind, but his words told me that he had been holding a lot back. A lot. "Where is all this coming from? You thinking I don't…care…about you?"

He breathed in and out many times. "I've just been trying to understand…I mean, I just don't get how you can say those things you say sometimes…that I'm the only one you care about and stuff…and then…sometimes not act like you mean them."

"How do I act like I don't mean them?"

"I don't know, like…I feel like you take your moods out on me sometimes…and this whole shower thing has turned into the biggest deal. You run away constantly when things get a little bit uncomfortable to handle, and you refuse to open up to me. _Your avoidance._ You yell and shout about I-don't-even-know-what—"

I couldn't take any more harsh truths anymore. "Look—I'm bad with this! I'm bad with words! I'm bad with relationships!"

Something changed right then. His calm demeanor changed, and he looked genuinely perturbed. "You say that a lot, Katniss…but you still _do_ the same things a lot, you know."

"What?"

He shrugged. "Retreat…hide behind words that you don't mean. It makes me constantly second-guess myself. You say it's hard, but how _hard_ is it to just _talk_? To _me_?"

I fought the urge to leave again. I was mad—very mad and very upset—and leaving was what I normally did when I became overwhelmed with emotion. I was making a conscious effort to stop that, though. It wasn't fair to Peeta, and he was right—I did it a lot. "Again, I'm sorry I can't just open my mouth and go to this world of fairies and rainbows and feelings and—"

"Oh, my good _God_, Katniss," he mumbled in exasperation at my sarcasm. "This is ridiculous!"

My heart was beating rapidly under my chest which was rising and falling heavily with each labored breath I took to try to calm down. Peeta was obviously angry, too, and we were getting nowhere.

"I can't tell what's real and not real, anymore, and I feel like we've had this conversation enough times by now for you to get the picture that I _really_ like you. And I'm not out to hurt you _at all_. So you don't have to hide stuff from me or…say sarcastic, mean things to me to protect yourself. If that's what you're trying to do…"

It wasn't like I was _hiding_ stuff on purpose; I just didn't see why anybody would constantly want to know what I was thinking or feeling. Obviously, Peeta _did_ want to know, though. Apparently he wanted to know even more than I had been offering, which I truthfully thought was a lot. He wanted to know all the thoughts in my head. It was becoming a bit much. I had no clue where to begin. I didn't even know if I could do that, if I could be this girl he wanted me to be.

"You haven't even made an attempt to address what you know I want to talk about," Peeta pointed out. "You've just been sitting there without saying much this entire time."

"I don't really have a lot of good things to say at the moment."

"So? That's my point: I just want you to say what's on your mind, good _or_ bad. That's how this should work. That's how people communicate."

"Fine," I challenged, my voice growing stronger at his implication that I didn't know how to communicate. I began with the point that had me so upset in the first place: that I don't try hard enough, that I don't _do_ enough. "I have literally done so much to make you see that I _am_ trying. Okay? I _am_ trying here." I pointed to my chest in emphasis. "And you _don't_ know how freaking hard it is. And here you are just pointing out every single one of my flaws, everything I need to fix…When I have seriously done _so _much that has been out of my comfort zone—" I fought the oncoming tears with all my might because it would be stupid to cry again right now. I just felt so, _so_ low because it seemed that he was upset with everything I did. Everything I _was_…

At the end of my sentence, my voice cracked. "Baby, stop, stop, stop," he said, scooting closer to me on the couch. My body language told him I didn't want him to touch me, so he backed off and sighed. "I don't want this to upset you."

"Huh," I laughed sardonically. "Well, it fucking is."

"And I'm very, very sorry. I _do_ know how hard it is for you. But can't you admit, just a little bit at least, that I'm right about some of this?"

"_Yes_, dammit! You're right, Peeta!" I threw up my hands. "What else do you want me to say?! Perfect Peeta is right, as always! I'm a fucking screw-up who can't _talk_ about things, who can't do anything right—"

"Katniss! I didn't say that! And I am not perfect." He rubbed his eyes with his fingers like he was getting a headache. "You're not a screw-up. I tell you all the time how much I like you." He said moments later in a much lighter tone, "How much I adore you."

"Well, I'm confused, then. Why are you trying to make me feel so shitty if you just adore me so much?"

"I've told you, baby, I seriously don't want to make you feel like that. I just want to get all of this stuff off my chest, to have a serious conversation with you about serious things. I-I-" he stuttered, "-I…just because I'm asking a bit more out of you than you're used to doesn't mean I like you any less, or want to change the core of you or anything."

I just could not let my attitude leave, and at that moment, I wished I could be more like Peeta and just open my mouth and say "I feel, I feel, I feel" and talk about every little insignificant electric impulse shooting around in my brain. But I couldn't. I was so used to protecting myself that I couldn't _not_ do it now. "Peeta…How would you feel if I sat here and told you each and every way you couldn't measure up?"

"I'm not even doing that, Katniss. I'm asking you to open up and be truthful with me more, especially about this masturbating thing, which you haven't even mentioned this entire time. That's it! That's all I'm asking. And just how would _you_ feel if I constantly left you in the middle of a conversation? Just left! Just got up and escaped, not telling you where I was going or when or if I'd be back? _Regularly_! On a pretty regular basis!"

"I get it, okay?! I'm fucking sorry. It's hard for me!" I shouted, not having the ability to lower my tone.

"You've said that ten times already, but how hard is it really? It's just ME!" He emphasized his words by spreading out his arms like he had nothing to hide.

I shook my head. "You can't do this, Peeta."

"Do what?"

"Expect me to get on your level when all of this is new for me. I'm trying, okay?! I'm fucking trying."

"It's new for me, too, Katniss, as I've told you a million times before. I've never been in a relationship before either, if that's even what you want to call this. And I really don't see much trying on your part, actually."

My eyes narrowed at him. I had literally just got done telling him how I had been trying to do things out of my comfort zone. Apparently he hadn't heard what I said. "How many more times should I say I'm sorry?" I sarcastically asked.

He exhaled. "Saying sorry but repeating the action again and again…I just don't know what to think of that, Katniss," he spoke.

I thought about what we were even arguing about for a second. It was absurd. But I was the one that was _making_ it absurd. I got his point loud and clear, but all of the other things he had been saying were the things that were upsetting me the most: that I wasn't trying hard enough, that my behavior was confusing, that I ran away too much, that he was even confused about how I really felt for him.

"If that's how you feel, then I guess nothing I can do or say can change it, huh?" I asked. "If you have such a problem with it, then why don't you just tell me to leave? What the hell is the point?" I sobbed in self-defeat.

"Dammit, Katniss!" I was really having a bad effect on him, it seemed. I hated that about myself, but I didn't know what else to do at the moment. He hit the couch with a tight fist. "This is completely ridiculous!" he yelled. "I don't want to fight! I never meant this to turn into a fight," he pleaded. "Not with you…I don't ever want to fight with you." Of all times to cry, now he sounded like he was about to, only serving to make me want to bawl more.

Something had to give. I had to stop being so pointlessly revengeful. It was just so strange to be arguing with someone other than Gale. I was so used to fighting with shouted words and passive-aggressiveness that dealing with Peeta was a brand-new experience for me. He just wanted complete openness, and I was fighting so hard against him knowing my deepest insecurities that I had caused this train wreck before me. We were both stripped down and bared. This unpleasantness was what I had been trying to push aside this entire time, but Peeta's persistence finally got it out of me: now I was genuinely crying because I hated myself.

"We're going to fight, Peeta," I sniffed, trying to get him to see that I didn't want him to leave me, that I_ did_ care about him, that I didn't want a break-up. That he shouldn't give up on me. "People who live together fight! It happens! It doesn't mean I don't love you anymore just because things are hard and we argue, okay?!"

His eyes darted to mine in shock, and seconds later I was sure my own reflected their awe at my slip of words.


	20. Chapter 20

After our eyes met, I immediately realized what I had just said and looked to the floor with wide, frozen eyes. I could feel heat crawling up my neck and spreading all around my face until I loudly heard and felt my heartbeat in my ears. Thump, _thump_, thump, _thump_—it was all I could discern in the suddenly too-silent room. Anxiety weighed down my chest and made my breathing shallow as the mortification from my slip of words took over my senses. What had I just _done_?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

I had said it, and it had come out of nowhere. _God_, I hadn't planned on that at all. What was it called when you said something that you didn't mean to say because it was actually there in the back of your mind all along? I couldn't remember. I couldn't even remember my own name. I couldn't think of anything clearly at the moment. I was in shock.

Despite having dozens of people after my _life_ before, never had I ever felt so vulnerable than I did right now: sitting on a big, comfy couch, in a spacious, beautiful house. With the soft light of dusk beaming in from the hills outside. Next to a guy who looked like he'd been chiseled from stone and sent down from the heavens. For such a seemingly-relaxed scene, I was uncomfortable as hell.

Peeta and I both remained as still as ice, and the air between us was as unmoving as our bodies were while time temporarily stood still. To my left, I could feel the weight of his heavy gawking. I could feel his eyes on my cheek, on my ear, on my hair, on _me_, and I had to force myself to breathe, had to remind myself not to hide behind my hair, had to fight the compulsion to flee.

I realized I was still crying, making my face burn even more as the heat of my tears mixed with the hot embarrassment I felt as a result of my admittance. Slowly, I breathed in. Slowly, I breathed out. _It's okay,_ I tried to tell myself. This was _Peeta_. This was just Peeta. _Peeta_, who had just been begging for me to share my emotions with him…Surely he wouldn't think I was an idiot for saying that…Surely he would feel the same way…

_Would he_, though? All sorts of doubts began attacking my mind as I immediately remembered everything Peeta had presented me with in his little spout just seconds ago. I wasn't so dense as to think "he probably doesn't feel the same way," because I _finally_ understood that he did feel similarly…He just _had_ to…But what if it was entirely too soon for me to have said that to him? What kind of girl did that, anyway? Weren't guys supposed to say that kind of thing first? Just leave it to me, rash Katniss, to act without thinking.

The normal doubts I already had about not meeting Peeta's expectations—now mixed with a thousand more uncertainties—piled to the ceiling before me until everything became too much and I literally couldn't speak. Vaguely, I wondered when I had become so weak in the face of emotional hardships.

The room was stagnant and waiting for somebody to move, waiting for one of us to speak and at last break the fragile tension that my words had caused. And I knew it wasn't going to be me. My vocal chords were paralyzed and completely unable to work. It was all my mind could do to remind myself to keep breathing, such a simple survival task that I stupidly just could _not_ do without telling myself to.

"Katniss…" Peeta whispered, finally shattering the pressure in the air and re-warming the room with just his voice. I was sure I was beet red as I slowly lifted my head and reluctantly looked at him. Shyly locking gazes, I noticed that his eyes were glistening, the gentle light shining in from outside making them reflective. I took a second to stare into their crystal vividness—a blue so electric that it looked like the white rays in his irises were little lightning bolts piercing me with unspoken intensity, saying "I feel the same way, Katniss, I feel the exact same way."

He scooted closer to me so that our legs were touching, and I absolutely reveled in the feeling; it had felt like forever since we'd had any sort of physical contact with one another. He audibly swallowed, and leaning forward, gently touched my cheek with the back of his hand before caressing my jaw-line, like I was something to be admired, like I hadn't just said the meanest things in the world to him just minutes before. Like I was special.

With my face cradled in his hand, I could tell from how he stared at me that I really _was_ special to him. The voice I heard in his eyes told me he wasn't mad anymore. He focused on me in a way I couldn't even put words to…like I was precious and fragile and beautiful. And I was undeserving of every bit of it.

I tried to convey how sorry I was with my returning look—sorry for everything I had done and said to him, sorry for just being how I was. I prayed that what I found in his eyes meant that everything was okay, that he was still the sweet boy I knew and loved underneath his earlier frustration...that he still had hope for me.

I used to think that this kind of stuff was silly, this "in love" stuff. I was sure the image of Peeta holding my face while I cried, both of us staring at each other in wonder, _did_ look a little comical. I didn't care anymore about how it might appear, though, because none of that mattered. Peeta was the only thing that mattered to me in the world at that moment.

Just then I realized I had gotten Peeta's hand wet from being on my face; my skin was absolutely soaking wet with tears. They were embarrassingly still falling like rain, covering my lips and trickling to my chin. I tried my hardest to wipe all of them away, but Peeta took my hands in his and squeezed them in his lap, looking at both sets momentarily before returning his sights on me.

As he looked up again, his eyes became the softest I had seen them all day, not a drop of expectation visible in their angelic blueness. He was just letting me cry. The way he looked at me as he rubbed his thumbs along the back of my hands made a fresh set of tears burn in my eyes, and Peeta's face became blurry for a minute until I blinked them away.

Exactly how long was it possible for me to cry? How many tears were even in there to let out this week? I was about to find out, because I just couldn't stop. _Why couldn't I just stop crying?_

I could feel the welcome heat from Peeta's body as his face slowly inched closer and closer to mine. I didn't know why he would want to kiss me then—the slobbery, crying mess I was—but he grinned before he moved his hands from mine to again cradle my face and press his lips lightly to mine.

And something _new_ happened.

My eyes shut on their own accord, my lips slightly puckered to accept his affections. I expected to feel the normal warm, cozy sensation Peeta's kisses normally brought—maybe even the now-familiar stir in my stomach—but instead of just feeling his soft lips pressing and moving against mine, this was _more_. It was _so_ much more, _so_ much better, than anything I'd ever experienced. A labyrinth of colors swam and danced in my head in some type of thrilling celebration, and all because of a kiss.

While lost in the kiss (though "kiss" seemed like such a _wrong_ word to describe what it really was), I got a glimpse of what Peeta probably saw in life all the time: magic in the ordinary. For a rational, straight-forward girl like myself, this was revolutionary. This was more than just a kiss…incomparably more. All of my muscles went limp; I felt like a doll, becoming dizzier and less in-control by the second, left under Peeta's guidance.

As a child, I was used to the feeling of being dizzy; I've always been very active. When I was a girl, Prim and I would spin around and around and around in our "backyard" and would collapse in a heap in the dirt, light-headed and laughing and sweaty until we got in trouble for getting our only dresses filthy. Other memories included my father. Dad would hold my hands and tell me to lift up my feet, and he'd spin me in a circle again and again, and I'd beg him not to stop. And he wouldn't. And I would be so ridiculously giddy that my mouth hurt from smiling so much.

I've never felt the dizziness, the faintness, the thrill, the _high_ of being weightless while just sitting still. Until now. Until this moment with Peeta. Somehow, this was different than any other time we'd pressed our lips together, different than any other experience I'd had as a kid.

I was swimming. I closed my eyes tighter and let myself experience the sensation over and over again until I felt myself slightly smiling from how drugged Peeta was making me with just his lips. With my eyes closed and my mouth open, I allowed myself to go faint.

All too soon, his lips left mine. My eyes bolted open, and I tried to make sense of what just happened. I was completely sober yet felt immensely airy, the floaty feeling dancing throughout my body being almost better than an orgasm. Was that even possible? Was that what love felt like? _Was_ this love? There seemed to be an invisible string between me and Peeta, connecting us even while our lips remained separate. This was unbelievable. Incredible. Frightening.

After being disconnected from my mouth for mere seconds, he kissed the tip of my nose. Then my burning cheeks. Then my forehead. At last he returned to my mouth, kissing me in the sweetest way imaginable as his hands finally moved to envelop me in a hug and pull me closer to him. I clutched his t-shirt and pulled him even nearer to me as we kissed and kissed and kissed.

Everything was wet and salty and perfect. So perfect that my eyes still leaked while our tongues moved against one another. _He_ was just perfect in every way. I loved him.

He broke our kiss again moments later, and we both fought to get our breathing under control. It was crazy how carried away I got around him—I already wanted to latch back onto his tongue and make out all night, despite my fatigue and runny nose, despite the fact that I had still forgotten to breathe. Peeta gave me a soppy, smitten smile and pressed his forehead to mine while his hands rested at the small of my back. I held onto his broad shoulders before hooking my hands together at the back of his neck, surely returning his love-sick expression.

He was so close that I could smell his sweet breath when he raggedly whispered, "You really mean it?"

Just then I realized we hadn't even been speaking the entire time. It had felt like a million things had been said, but all he had murmured was my name. I recognized the uncertainty in his question because I still hadn't actually said _the words_ to him. The sentence seemed stuck in my mouth.

I was being faced with the hardest thing I'd ever had to do: say "I love you" to somebody... Prim was the only person I had ever said that to in the past five years. And maybe my mother once or twice. But Prim was the only one that I was _certain_ I loved, the only person naturally worthy of that phrase.

Again, that was until now. Now Peeta had made his way into my heart, almost imperceptibly, like smoke. And that was the scariest part about the whole thing: that somebody could become rooted inside me so strongly that I couldn't even picture myself having them gone from my life. Whereas I'd normally be totally freaked out by the notion, the thought sat semi-comfortably with me somehow. True, I was terrified, but I was still excited. I guess that was what love was supposed to be like, though…scary _and_ exhilarating…

I nodded against Peeta's forehead. "I do," I whispered. I hesitated to actually say the sentence, but somehow I formed the words. "I…I love you." My breathing was heavy. I had done it…I'd really done it. And surprisingly, I was okay with it.

"I love you, too, Katniss," he spoke instantly, his strong hands firmly holding and squeezing my back. "God, I love you so much."

My mouth dropped open at the adoration I heard in his voice, and then I smiled a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in days. He returned the smile, chuckling slightly, until my cheek muscles pulled my lips up in a huge celebratory grin. He loved me. He _loved_ me. I barely registered this revelation before I could feel him still smiling, too, as he powerfully pressed his lips to mine yet again. I barely had time to prepare myself but quickly melted once again.

Again, my hands ran up into his hair—his newly trimmed, just-the-right-length, soft, blond hair—and held onto him so he wouldn't ever leave my lips again. Our mouths were just slightly open, and we lazily moved our tongues against each other, just blissfully enjoying one another's taste—no rushing. I was swimming in giddiness once again, finally giving into the need I had been neglecting, the need to be where I belonged: entangled in Peeta. God, I had missed this.

Suddenly I remembered all of the little kisses we had shared before when we first started this…the semi-hesitant one in the cave…the short, intense one that _I_ initiated when we first shared the bed upstairs together… Now here Peeta was teasing my bottom lip with his tongue while soothing my back with long strokes**_,_** reminding me that he didn't kiss like a boy anymore. Now he was sure of himself when it came to this. Now everything was effortless. He knew what I liked.

Peeta groaned against my lips and squeezed me even tighter to him. Somehow he pulled me up on his lap, and in response, both of my legs painfully squeezed his hips in enthusiasm. While our lips were temporarily apart, he mused, "This is unreal…I can't believe this right now…"

My hands ran wildly through his hair then down to his shoulders. I ran my fingers over his biceps, feeling the give and pull of the muscles that were holding me so securely. With one hand cradling my ass, firmly keeping me pressed against him, his other hand wedged between our bodies and slowly traveled up to my breast to softly caress it. At that, I imperceptibly rocked my hips forward. Peeta groaned but then removed his hand to rest it again at the small of my back, this time under my shirt.

His intimate touch had been short-lived—he had only rested his hand on my chest for mere seconds—but was long enough to ignite the fire within me. I was almost glad that he was hesitating with how far to take this right now, because everything felt so good that I wasn't sure if we'd be able to stop once we began.

Though I wanted more than anything to forget the world existed and just be entwined with Peeta like this, connected at the lips, running our hands along each others' bodies, that would be very "old Katniss" of me—covering up the problem at hand, choosing to use actions only. Peeta had been reasonably requesting a few changes from me, and I was prepared to deliver now that some of my confidence was back. Plus, there was nobody saying we couldn't continue afterwards…

However giddy I was that he had just returned my sentiment, and however high I was from the attention I was getting from his mouth and hands, and however _happy_ he seemed to be right now, I had to be realistic. I had to talk to him. Though I was more comfortable displaying my emotions with my actions, I knew Peeta _had_ to hear words. That much was definitely clear from our argument, even if he wasn't acting like it right now. If we didn't stop now, soon we'd both reach the point of no return. I desperately tried to calm my raging hormones so I'd gain the strength to tell him everything going on inside my mind.

Even if this was horrible timing and even though I was disinclined to have this conversation, to voice this much-need apology, I knew I had to. For Peeta.

"Wait, wait," I asked of him, quietly laughing into his mouth as I backed away only to have him just lean in further. He never lost control like this—I was usually the one that was always trying to speed things up, not him. I found it extremely humorous. And maybe a little flattering, too.

He breathed out, "I would've told you sooner—much sooner—but—"

"No—it's okay," I said, my own breathing as heavy as if I'd just been swimming laps in the lake. "I mean…it's just…" Jeez, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't form a sentence. Peeta's eyes had changed again. They got different when we kissed, darker and needier. And distracting. "We haven't finished talking yet. I've got…stuff I want to say," I stupidly finished.

He slightly backed away and ran his hands through his hair as he relaxed into the cushions behind his back. "I'm sorry. I'm just so happy," he admitted breathlessly with a meek smile. I could only smirk as our shy eyes darted at each other then looked away. With me still on top of his lap after an intense make-out session, both of us were ironically being shy…

Gulping, I looked at him again and prepared to apologize, but I almost floated away to another place entirely when he met my eyes and moved his hands to rest lightly on my thighs. He was ridiculously attractive…I was close to being carried away just from his looks alone. The only way to center myself was to take a few breaths and close my eyes. When I reopened them, I looked down towards my lap for the sake of speaking. I wouldn't be able to do it while looking at him. This was so _weird_. For a minute I wondered why I had stopped our kissing in the first place.

"So…I really don't know where to begin," I admitted. "I have…so much to say sorry for."

"Oh, not really," he consoled. I checked to see if he was being sarcastic by lifting my eyes, and his smile told me his words were genuine. I looked at him in mild disbelief. I couldn't believe he was acting like nothing had just happened…He didn't appear to be upset whatsoever anymore. I still had to explain myself, though, because I was still bubbling with guilt and uneasiness about my earlier hateful words, and plus, everything would just eat him up inside until it burst out again the next time he was feeling depressed.

"Stop," I told him as he tried to brush off my apology. "Just…let me apologize, okay?"

"Oh, Katniss…" He smirked at me and lightly tickled my sides with his fingers. "Always so bossy…"

I tried not to smile. I looked at my lap again, finding that, as usual, it was easier to talk about feelings when I wasn't looking directly at him. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, still not having the ability to find all the words I wanted to use. "It's really hard for me to say stuff out loud to you," I admitted while playing with the hem of my shirt. "Like, so hard that I don't think you understand."

"I _do_ understand," he replied softly as he began to rub the sides of my legs up and down.

I went on like he hadn't spoken. "—But I'll try. I _am_ trying…to work on that. I just wanted you to know that first."

"You know, I really should be the one saying sorry," Peeta expressed. "I'm such a jerk. I can't believe—"

I spoke over him. "You're really not."

Shaking his head in disbelief, he explained, "I made you _cry_, Katniss. I _never_ want to make you cry. What kind of guy does that?"

"Peeta, honestly, it's okay. Really. It was bound to come out, anyway. I've been a crybaby lately."

"No…It's my fault in the first place—"

I held my hand up so he'd stop. I really deserved everything he had just presented me with. Every bit of it, as much as I had hated to hear it at the time. Now it was my turn to present him with what he'd been so distraught about in the first place: the truth about last night. But I had no idea how to even phrase my weird feelings. I took a huge breath to prepare myself to finally tell him what he had literally been fighting me for the longest time to just spit out. Without really thinking over my words first, I began talking.

"Okay," I said after I exhaled. "Truth is…it didn't make me feel weird, or like all you think about is…sex," I admitted too quickly, both of us knowing without pretext what I was rambling about. He was staring at me, actively taking in every word, and it made it hard. I sighed again, hating this struggle going on inside me, wishing I was swimming in his kisses again. "I mean, I felt a _little_ weird, but I can't really explain it. It made me feel like….It made me feel like you were doing that because you yourself could do it better than I did. Like I'm not enough for you or something," I said meekly. "Like I haven't been doing…what you like."

He shifted a bit to fully sit up before looking at me in shock and placing his hands on my hips. "Baby," he gasped, "that's not true whatsoever."

"I even thought that, too. Sometimes, I _know_ it's not true," I replied, now in full-on ramble mode, "which is the stupidest thing about it all. I basically _know_ that that's not what's going on in your mind, but I still can't get this stupid idea out of my head that I'm not doing something right. No matter how hard I try, it's right there, constantly putting me down, constantly telling me that I'm not good enough and that you don't like what I'm doing."

With both of us on eye-level again, Peeta's eyes bore into mine. He nodded in glum sympathy. "I completely understand," he murmured. "I do the same thing myself."

"I know you do," I mumbled, "but you don't take it out on everyone else like I do. I'm the one who's impossibly difficult to deal with because of it."

"No, not _impossibly_ difficult," he mocked playfully. "You have _just_ the right amount of difficulty about you…" he muttered, straining his neck forward to kiss me once more.

It was easy to feel better under the sweet attention of his lips, but still, I shook my head after our mouths had been jointed for just a few seconds. "I'll do it again, Peeta," I told him. "I won't mean to, but I'll do it again. I know I will."

"Do what again?"

I shrugged. "Make the same mistakes…run away…I don't know, do something stupid."

"And I'm sure I will, as well," he replied simply. "So what? We'll work it out. As long as we talk. There's nothing to worry about. Everything'll be fine."

I shook my head again. "But what if…what if you see one day that I'm not the person you want me to be? That I just don't measure up to this image of me you have in your head?" In a smaller voice, I asked, "What if you give up on me?"

He examined me quietly for a long time. "I want to tell you you're being silly, but I know exactly what it's like to worry about stuff like that…because I do it, too…a lot of the time." His face turned serious. "Would you believe me if I said that that could never happen? That I love you how you _are_? That that'll never change?"

I wanted to believe him. I really wanted to. Choosing my words carefully, I asked in the least-provoking way I could, "I-I'm not being mean here, I promise...But how am I _supposed_ to believe that? If you loved me the way I am, then you wouldn't be asking me to change, right? Just…just saying."

He looked into the distance for a moment. "I get how you'd think that. I guess we're just looking at it in two different ways. I don't see it as me asking you to change because I really do love you how you are. I really, _really_ do. And I always will." He smiled a small little smile. "Trust me on that. I just want what's inside here"—he pointed to my head—"to come out here."—he pointed to my mouth and shrugged. "That's it. If I were to say 'I want you to stop hunting' or… 'You need to stop braiding your hair' or…I don't know, something like that, then that would be me asking you to change. Does that make sense? Do you kinda see the difference?"

Actually, I could. "Well…yeah, when you put it like that."

"Can you see how easy it is to just talk to me now?" he asked quietly, nicely. I nodded, still feeling guilty, but less and less by the minute. "That's all I'm asking from you, you know…" he breathed. "This whole argument today didn't have to happen…if we could've just ..." he trailed off.

I nodded. "I know, I know…"

I knew that that was basically his way of saying "if you would've just opened your mouth in the first place, none of this had to happen." Somehow, even though those exact words would've cut me deeply inside coming from someone like Gale, Peeta had a way to make everything sound tender. Like he truly wasn't criticizing me like he had said so many times earlier, that he really was just stating a gentle fact, in his own, kind way. His soft hands, still caressing my sides and lower back, proved that.

I shrugged. "We obviously needed to have it, though, if you had so much on your mind."

"True," he admitted, "but…but it's just...I know I'm not perfect—" I raised my eyebrows gave him a _look_ because he pretty much _was _perfect, and he playfully pinched the side of my stomach—"so it sounds like I'm a complete jerk when I keep insisting that you open up when I really do understand that it's hard for you."

"Well, you know what?" I boldly declared, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck again, "I'm proud of you for speaking your mind…and standing up for yourself. You don't do it enough."

"Wait, what's this I hear?" he asked, rubbing my sides up and down before settling his hands on the small of my back again. "Somebody's proud of me for standing up to the great Katniss Everdeen?"

I nodded, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "I know, I know, I'm a really… _difficult_… person. I'm really sorry. But really, I'm glad you said everything you did. I needed to hear it. And you didn't need to keep it inside."

"I try not to do that…" he said softly. "Would be kind of shitty for me to ask _you_ to talk about what's going on in your head more if I didn't do it myself."

I bent down a little to meet his lips with mine. "You do keep stuff inside sometimes," I acknowledged after kissing him. "I guess I don't ask you to open up more because I don't want to pester you. But I do worry about you, you know. About how hard you always work…" I began to play with his hair. Ever since Prim had cut it, it looked so cute. "And how you never ask for anything from anybody but always just give and give. And about how that must be sucking the life out of you. And about how I'm not doing a damn thing to help at all—just making things worse…" I rambled. He squeezed me tighter and looked like he was going to interject, but I kept talking. "And your leg! You never say anything, but you're in pain almost_ all_ of the time—and I know you are, so shut up—and still, you just put this smile on for the world like you're the happiest guy ever—"

"I am, because I have you."

"And that!" I said, pointing vaguely toward his mouth. "The things you say. You're unbelievable. Like…you're unreal. Even when you're mad, it's ridiculous how nice you are."

He laughed. "Would you prefer me to be an asshole?"

I smiled with a chuckle. "No," I admitted, "but I constantly compare myself to you, and I don't measure up." I removed a hand from his hair to put my thumb and index finger together as I added, "Not even by a little." My smile faded a bit.

"Please," he rolled his eyes as he took my hand in his, dismissing my comment. "Katniss, don't say that again," he told me seriously. "Really, though. I've said it before, and I don't care how many times I have to repeat it: you're far better than I'll ever be."

I scoffed. "Clearly, I'm not…"

"Fine," he reluctantly gave in, "then we're exactly the same in our greatness, okay?" He rolled his eyes again and smirked at me. I tried to match his now-playful mood, but I was still holding onto multiple insecurities. "What is it?" he asked immediately at the look on my face.

Lightly and dismissively, I automatically answered, "Nothing."

His eyes squinted. Oh, right…he wanted to know how I _really_ felt. I sighed. "It's just the same stuff I've already told you, Peeta. You don't want to hear it again."

"Try me." He stared at me stony-faced, challengingly.

"Fine…You'll just think I'm being stupid, though."

"I won't."

"Just…" I didn't even know what the problem was. I didn't know why I had to ruin a perfectly good moment with my doubts and suspicions. "I just feel like such a bitch sometimes." When he didn't respond, I continued the thought, "I don't want you to think I'm…like …that I'm like your mother or something."

"Ew…" he responded, shaking his head furiously. "No. No. I'd never think that. Ever. What made that cross your mind?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want to hurt you…at all…and I feel like that's all I'm good for," I lamented. "No matter what, if I feel threatened," I continued, lowering my voice, "all I end up doing when I get upset is saying shit I don't even mean so I'll feel a tiny bit more vindicated. And that just ends up hurting you and messing everything up." I sniffed—my sinuses were still all gross from the earlier cry-fest. "I'm so sorry, but it's all I'm used to doing…"

He squeezed my hand. "I never knew that you felt like that…But that's not true, though, baby, it's not. My mom's nasty and abusive. Ugly on the inside and out. You're none of those things. I honestly like that you're…I don't know…feisty?" He laughed. "Passionate, I guess, is the better word…Expressive." He smiled again.

"Hmpf. You make it sound like it's a good thing."

"It is. You're head-strong."

"Well, I take it to extremes sometimes. I don't _want_ to be like that. I hate it about myself." God, I was pathetic.

"You shouldn't. But, then again, I hate a lot of things about myself, too."

"There's nothing to even hate, Peeta. You're perfect."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's not true."

"You're not nearly as hot-headed as I am—"

"And I love that about you," he interrupted.

My heart jumped. "Do you love that I'm moody?" I challenged. "That I—"

"I have my flaws, too, you know," he cut me short. "Everyone does. Nobody's perfect."

"And what might your flaws be?" He hesitated after I asked. "See? You can't even think of any, can you?"

He laughed darkly. "No, I just wouldn't know where to begin."

I reproachfully looked at him. "Oh, come on, Peeta."

"Honestly…I'm not trying to sound like I hate myself or something. There's just a lot of things that if I _could_ change, I would."

"Like what?"

He was quiet for a while. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm really insecure. So…that's why I feel like I've started this entire fight today… because I've been second-guessing myself so freaking much that I've been pushing all of my doubts on you."

"Oh, but you hav—" I tried to tell him that that was what _I_ had been doing, but he didn't want me to talk.

He put his finger to my lips. "My turn." After a few moments he shrugged, and never before had I ever seen Peeta as such a helpless boy more than at that moment. "Sometimes I…I'll translate things you do or say too much and just come up with all of these nasty conclusions about myself, then it'll put me in a bad mood, and then…well, I'll piss you off…and I'll cause all types of bad stuff to happen. It can all be traced back to me."

I was genuinely curious as to what he was talking about. What exactly went on in this boy's head? "Translate what exactly? What do you mean, 'nasty conclusions'?"

"I dunno…like…little things. Like, that you have to leave the room when you get upset because you can't stand to be around me. That I must be revolting to you."

"You k now that's not true."

"Sometimes I do, but sometimes my mind makes me believe it's true."

"Just like me."

"Just like you."

I tried to choose my words carefully, tried to ignore the huge pang of guilt I felt at knowing I was the one making him feel this way about himself, tried to be hopeful. "Well…there's nothing wrong with that, though. It can be fixed. Like you said, we all have our flaws…"

"No!" he exclaimed, suddenly passionate. "Can't you see? It makes me feel like…like I need to be coddled or something. Like I constantly need reassurance. I'm not trying to stifle you here, and I'm not trying to be annoying by constantly asking you how you feel. I really don't want to be like that."

"You're not. Not at all," I admitted. "And I get why you _might_ need reassurance from time to time. I'm not exactly the warmest person in the district. It makes total sense." _And I promise to change my behavior so you I won't ever make you feel like that again…_

"You don't think I'm too pushy?"

I shook my head, confused why he'd ask that. "No…"

"Really?"

I laughed. "No, Peeta. I really don't. So you asked me to open up about my feelings a couple of times—that was a completely reasonable request, don't you think?"

He didn't answer, so I reached my hand out to touch his jaw and moved his head up and down for him so it'd look like he was nodding. We both smiled at each other with glinted eyes.

Somehow, even after how intimate we'd been recently, I felt the closest to him right at that moment, just staring at each other. Everything was out in the open now—his insecurities, my insecurities, both of our imperfections. And I liked it.

We were both so insecure. Because of my childhood, I constantly felt like I was exposed, like I would be hurt no matter what, like everything good in my life would be taken from me. And because of that, I had developed some weird complex where I constantly pushed people away to protect myself from potential disappointment. Peeta always felt deceived and unworthy of love because of _his_ childhood…_and_ because of the current life he lived, actually. And I had done nothing but strengthen those insecurities by lying to him in the arena. So because of his insecurities, he had to have consistent verbal reassurance of his worth.

This brought us to our problem: I wasn't very good with words; I was better with actions. But as the clarity of our root fears came into light, I knew that I would have to talk more to Peeta, even about minuscule things, to make him still feel needed and loved. Because he was. When I told him I was trying to make an effort, I was genuine. I couldn't deal with hurting him anymore.

"Again, I'm really sorry…For everything…"

"Baby, _I'm_ sorry," he again insisted on taking the blame for everything. "I'm sorry that I upset you… that what I did upset you." We were back to referring to_ the incident_. "It wasn't my intention to freak you out, or for you to even see…But at the same time, it wasn't like I was hiding it from you or anything. I mean..._kind_ of, but not in this big secretive way, like, 'gotta go jerk off while Katniss is asleep!'"

I burst out laughing at Peeta's voice as he said that. I didn't know if I'd ever get used to him talking about it so normally. One second I was feeling apologetic all over again, and then suddenly he was comforting me and making me laugh like he always did so well.

"Really, Katniss, it only means I find you attractive and respect you. I _don't_ want you to think I'm using you, I _don't_ want you to think I'm gross. And that's why I did it in the shower in the first place… so I wouldn't bother you when I knew you had had a horrible day, plus your cramps and stuff."

I nodded. That was perfectly understandable… and strangely considerate for a guy. I, of course, had made it into a big deal that it didn't need to become.

"Let's just put it all behind us," I suggested. "Do you think we can do that?" Otherwise, we'd both be apologizing until the sun set.

"Sounds perfect." He leaned in to peck my lips. "We should go upstairs…get some sleep..."

"Mm," I acknowledged, deepening the kiss. Neither of us made to get off the couch, however. In fact, Peeta wrapped his arms around me and began lightly massaging my tongue with his, clearly not wanting to move himself.

Both of his hands moved under my t-shirt and lightly stroked my back, making goosebumps erupt on my skin despite their warmth.

"Your hands feel good."

He smiled. "I can't help myself from touching you. You look so pretty."

I wanted to deny his compliment—I was sure I looked disgusting after sweating all day and crying all evening—but I pushed the thought aside and smiled instead, parting my lips soon afterwards to accept his tongue once more.

He held onto me tightly, but we were still too far apart. To try to get closer to him, I slightly pushed my pelvis forward. Suddenly, Peeta broke the kiss and sat up stiffly, at once removing any contact I had just made.

"Wh-what is it?"

"I…I just don't want you to think this is all I want," he whispered.

"I don't," I whispered back, shaking my head.

I looked down and saw that his jeans were painfully bunched at the crotch. The area underneath the zipper seemed to be stiff and tight, and I realized he was _really_ enjoying what we were doing. The sight gave me confidence…I thought about reaching down and touching him there, but just as I was about to work up the nerve, we were interrupted.

Both of our bodies stiffened and our eyes widened as an annoying, shrieking noise assaulted the quiet room. Confused and alert, I jerked my head at the sound. Somebody was calling our phone. _Of course_ the phone would ring at a time like this. _Of course_ it would. No one _ever_ called, but of course it'd be ringing now.

Though it was stupid, I had always been kind of afraid of answering the phone since we started staying here in the village. The phone was weird to me; I hated it. We remained motionless for at least a minute while the phone continued to ruin the atmosphere we had just created. I was more than fine with letting it ring, but after a minute of its loud shrilling, Peeta looked at me guiltily and shifted so he could get out from underneath me.

I really just wanted to continue with what we were doing. "Peeta…"

He sighed. "I know. But what if it's important?"

I groaned and untangled my legs from his waist, lying back on the couch and feigning sulkiness as he adjusted his clothes. It'd just take a minute, but _still_…

As he wordlessly rose off the couch and walked into the kitchen, I tried to be sly and look at his pants, but he caught me and smirked. He raised his eyebrows but didn't comment on what he obviously knew I'd been looking at. I had felt it growing under me, and now it was more than apparent just how turned on he had been. I found that I liked knowing that he found me attractive in that way.

I watched him as he walked into the kitchen, studying him, observing each little muscle's movements as his each foot of his noisily moved in front of the other. As he picked up the receiver, I listened to his voice, deep yet innocent, speak into the mouth-piece. "Hello?"

I stared at the phone suspiciously, wondering who on earth it could be calling us. Peeta was grinning when he turned his face to me and mouthed "Prim." I half-heartedly rolled my eyes. They were probably over there settling in and getting into all the neat stuff that the new house had to offer. I was happy for all of them over there, even if it took the worst turn-of-events _ever _to land them there. I remembered, not long ago at all, the huge shock of being able to take a warm shower, to have an entire _room_ to myself, to be able to do all types of things that the Seam just didn't offer.

My daydream comparisons of my life "then and now" and how suddenly everything had turned upside-down ended shortly. Moments later, Peeta loudly walked back into the living room and rested on the couch again next to me.

"She's so excited," he laughed. "She thinks the phone's the coolest thing in the world. Said the young kids—what are their names again?"

"Vick and Posy."

He snapped his fingers. "That's right. She said Vick and Posy want a turn pressing the buttons next, so she had to go."

His soft laugh was contagious, but I became serious again almost immediately. I had been too busy thinking and hadn't heard the rest of his conversation, so I was curious about what all Prim had said. "Did she say if they've been asking about their mother?"

He shook his head. "She didn't, no…I really don't know how they're handling that…I don't know what everyone's been telling them. They seemed really happy, though. I could hear them laughing in the background."

I smiled a bit but still wondered how on earth everybody had gotten to this point. Sure, it was excellent that Gale's family—and mine, too—finally had a decent place to call home, but at what cost?

To Peeta's credit, he could tell I was worrying and nudged my leg with his. "Hey," he said. I smiled to reassure him that I was okay, then I tried my best to give him a seductive look so we could get back to doing what we just were. I was pretty sure I just looked silly. Peeta looked back at me, pained and uncomfortable, and I didn't understand. Just minutes ago we were fine. Had I done something wrong?

"Um…Wh-What is it?"

"I just can't let this go for some reason…" I looked at him in confusion, and he sighed. "I still feel to blame for our argument."

I rolled my eyes without him seeing. "You're still on about that? Look, it's not your fault—I've already told you. That's why I apologized, because_ I'm_ the one that was to blame. Let's just forgive and forget…please?"

"No… It's just…there's something I haven't mentioned yet. It's bothering me."

I narrowed my eyes. Oh, _great._ What was this about?

"Last night…"

"Yeah?"

"It was all my fault," he spilled. "If I hadn't drunk what Haymitch gave me last night, I would've been able to explain everything right when it happened. I _never_ would have let you go to bed mad like that, and I never would have gone so long without fixing it, but I just wasn't thinking."

"Wait…huh?"

He sighed, looking immensely blameworthy. "I couldn't sleep at all last night, even after a whole pot of that tea. I went on the porch and sketched for a while, then Haymitch staggered over, liquor-in-hand, as always. Thought I'd drink some of it to help me get to sleep."

I put a hand to my mouth. "No way!" I'd never heard of Peeta drinking, or even being interested in drinking. Actually, I was fairly sure that he was against it. I had always thought it had something to do with his mother but had never actually asked.

He nodded guiltily. "Like, just a little bit, and then I came inside to shower. But I've never drunk in my whole life, so it was like—whoa… And then…you already know the rest."

"So drinking apparently puts you in the mood, too, huh?" I joked. I had almost gotten over my own embarrassment from my alcohol-induced experience, so it was time to pick on Peeta now. He smiled sheepishly but didn't say anything more on the topic. "So that's why your eyes were all red this morning? Because of the alcohol?"

He shrugged. "Yes and no. I didn't really sleep…thinking about how I'd upset you and all…"

"It's my fault for getting huffy anyway, but look, can we just forget about everything and go back to normal? Go back to doing…what we just were?"

"Wait, that's it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it?'"

"You're not mad?"

"What, are you afraid that I'm mad that you drank?" I asked incredulously. He nodded. "God, I _really_ must come across like a bitch then…"

"No! No, not at all! It's just, if _I_ were a girl…I could just see how maybe…"

I was amused at him trying to explain himself and quietly waited as he tried, but after a moment, I laughed and leaned forward to again boldly straddle his lap. Settling down more comfortably, I leaned my face forward and without speaking, cradled his face with my hands and pressed my lips to his.

"I love you, Katniss," he stated as our lips left each other and made a quiet smacking noise. "Really, I do. I've always loved you and I always will."

I audibly swallowed at that, at hearing those words. He had spoken them so surely. My hands had fallen to his shoulders and my mouth had slightly fallen open. I was too stupid to think to respond; we just stared at each other. Eventually, I smiled, probably blushing. I was _happy._ For the first time in forever, I was happy.

"God, you're so freakin' beautiful," Peeta awed. "And I'm so freakin' lucky."

"_And_ sappy," I added, though with a smile.

"Maybe I should say something to get you all worked up again, then," he suggested softly. "Get you all angry…It's pretty hot when you're mad, you know."

"Ooh, Peeta…You're playing with fire here."

"I know I am…And it's making me all warm…" He winked, and I laughed.

"Be quiet now," I told him.

"Okay."

Immediately, he sat up fully and put his hand on the back of my head to guide me to his mouth. I happily obliged and automatically closed my eyes as our mouths reunited sweetly, slowly. His tongue gently pushed into my mouth, and I gripped his shoulders tightly while he traced just the tip of my tongue with his. I could feel my heart beginning to race again—I wanted more. I pushed further into his mouth, massaging his tongue lightly. Again, he was ironically the one to speed things up this time, and he ran his fingers in my hair, almost digging into my skull, as we began to passionately move our mouths against one another.

Soon he removed his mouth from mine wetly and began to kiss along my jaw bone down to my neck.

"Don't—" I was going to warn him not to leave any more marks, but I felt him nod against my skin before I had to murmur my command.

He continued down my neck, lavishing kisses on every bit of revealed skin, and I tilted my head to the side to give him more room to do so. I could smell his shampoo and the unmistakable scent of his clothes—of him—and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and running my fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it under my hands. With my other hand, I held his head to my neck, encouraging him to continue. He backed away momentarily to look up at me through his blond lashes, maybe trying to see if I was still okay with everything.

What he saw on my face seemed to encourage him. He moved in again, this time running his teeth along the side of my neck and sending shivers down my spine, making the hair on my arms stand up. I arched into him again, stopping at an awkward angle as he began to place open-mouthed kisses along my collar bone, gently sucking as he went.

His hands trailed along my body, starting at my shoulders and moving down my back and sides, past the slight dip of my waist, and finally settling on my ass, strongly squeezing there. I moaned a little bit without meaning to; I absolutely loved having him so in control. Like earlier, I was swimming in all the different sensations he was making me feel.

He pressed me firmly to him as he thrust his hips up, _finally_ making contact with me. My mouth fell open and I gasped as I felt the evidence of his growing arousal pressed against me at last. Peeta returned to my mouth, and our kisses became heated and rushed. Soon he was rocking up his hips slowly but deeply, pulling soft little noises from me and producing some of his own. Rhythmically, he continued, my own hips rutting forward with each thrust from his.

"Katniss," he croaked, stilling his actions unwillingly. "Are you sure we should be…?"

I frantically nodded against his face. "Mmhmm."

I dropped my lips onto his again, but only briefly as I trailed across his jaw line to his ear. I put the lobe between my teeth and sucked on it, grinning at his intake of breath. Though I loved when he took control, I liked seeing and hearing his responses to my actions. _I could do this._

Tentatively reaching down between our bodies, I found the hard bulge at the front of his pants and lightly ran my fingertips along it. Peeta hissed in a breath, and though I couldn't tell exactly what I was touching because the fabric was so tight, I knew it had felt good.

"Katniss," he urgently hissed again, tapping my hip.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go upstairs."

"What's wrong with right here?"

He laughed nervously. "We—I—let's just go upstairs," he requested again. "Please?"

"Okay," I said, leaning forward to kiss him again, using my tongue to trace along his lower lip.

"Katniss…"

"Okay, okay," I conceded. I smirked at him while I untangled my legs from his body and stood up fully, stretching out my arms above my head. Just then, another loud noise jolted my senses, but it wasn't the phone this time.

Somebody was at the door. I cussed out loud.

"Oh, my Goddd," I groaned. We were cursed. Literally _every_ time we tried to just have a _little_ privacy, there would always be somebody around to interrupt it. Almost without fail.

Peeta chuckled but looked frustrated, too. "I'll get it."

I jumped up before he could. "You really think that's a good idea? Stay here. I'll get rid of whoever it is."

"Thanks…" he replied, looking shyly down to the area between his legs.

I subconsciously worried if I looked presentable to whoever was outside on the porch—which was probably Haymitch—but I let the thought slip away. If he had anything to say about my appearance, I'd just tell him I had been moving furniture all day in the ninety-degree weather. I heavily sighed and opened the door. Standing on the welcome mat, looking frail and dainty as a mouse, wasn't Haymitch. It was my mother.

Without greeting, I looked at her in confusion. She wasn't going to ask for more help tonight, was she? Honestly, Peeta and I just needed one nights' sleep. Just one night! Seven or more hours of uninterrupted, peaceful sleep—that was it. That's all we were asking for. Then I'd be more than happy to help again. My mind wasn't able to accept anything else today, and the physical strength I normally held onto had been depleted. The area between my legs ached at the separation from Peeta, and it was beyond awkward to be so horny and have my mother right in front of me. She could probably see right through me, could probably guess what it was that Peeta and I had just been doing.

My mom and the kids should've been calling it a night. Everyone had had a rough day, and the new house had an automatic washing machine _plus_ hot showers. Mom should be flipping out about all the amenities over there, leaving us alone with a little bit of peace.

"Hi, honey," Mom said quietly, peeking inside to look at Peeta on the couch. He smiled and waved, actions which she returned before standing up straight again and looking at me. "Have you been crying?" she asked softly, stepping forward to touch my face. I shook my head. She lowered her hand then smiled in a way that I couldn't describe… almost hesitantly, like she was afraid of me. _Afraid of her daughter?_ It was ridiculous.

She kept standing there, not saying anything for a while. It was weird. "Do you need something?" I asked her finally, wanting her to be assertive for once in her life, to just say why it was that she knocked on the door.

"Could we talk out here for just a second?"

About what? 'I'd really rather be back with Peeta,' I wanted to say. "You heard from Hazelle?" I asked instead, expectantly, the high excitement from my hopes leaking out in my tone of voice.

She just shook her head sadly and seriously and remained looking at me with eyes that implored I step outside. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion before deciding to get whatever she wanted to say to me over with. I hoped there wasn't more bad news. This whole situation didn't seem good.

I looked at Peeta guiltily before walking out into the hot, humid, summer air. I sighed and braced myself for the worst.

**"I don't think that writer's block exists really. I think that when you're trying to do something prematurely, it just won't come. Certain subjects just need time…You've got to wait before you write about them." -Joyce Carol Oates**

**I thought this was a very appropriate quote for this chapter, but in my defense, I've been busy with work…getting married…and all that fun stuff. :) So anyway, I've never used a beta because I think it's pointless. Even though I know that just sets me up for errors, especially because this is so freaking long, I hope there's not too many mistakes because I just wanted to go ahead and publish this. As always, thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Peeta's POV**

Katniss walked to the front door begrudgingly as I remained sitting on the sofa, scrubbing my face with my hands. I was slightly trembling at the loss of her body from mine, and I had to concentrate on my breathing to calm myself down. I felt high and ridiculously happy to finally be back on good terms with Katniss in such a short amount of time. Arguments in my old home usually turned into physical blowouts that lasted for days, so I wasn't used to things being back to normal so quickly…

As always, part of me wondered if any of this was even real, because things with me and Katniss weren't even "normal" right now but, instead, _extraordinary_.

She had said _she loved me_. I felt like a flame was burning inside my ribcage. To have Katniss, the girl I had loved for longer than I could remember, tell me she _loved_ me…

I couldn't stop myself from smiling, looking like a complete fool all alone on the couch when Mrs. Everdeen stuck her head inside the foyer and waved at me. Luckily, I had been leaning forward with my elbows resting on my knees, so the huge tent in my pants was hopefully unnoticeable as I tried my best to look normal and wave back. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and I frowned as she and Katniss stepped out onto the porch to speak privately, wondering if something was wrong, but honestly in too much pain from my throbbing jeans to ponder it too much.

Breathing and feigning being calm had worked for me for a few moments, but then those moments turned into anxious minutes. I wondered what was taking so long and rose from the couch.

If something _was_ seriously wrong, I wondered why they were out on the porch—in the heat—instead of having their conversation inside. Were they trying to keep something from me? Never would I ever eavesdrop on their personal family moments, but as I stood up and stretched, I heard Katniss yell something loudly, and that's how I knew she and her mother must be arguing, and that's when I became truly worried.

I sighed. It really bothered me that their relationship was so rocky and that every time Katniss spoke with her mother, it seemed to make her unhappy.

I tip-toed to the front door and pressed my ear against its thick wood. Not being able to distinguish their voices outside anymore, I listened discreetly from behind the window curtains directly beside the house's entrance, wondering how on earth I would explain my position if they suddenly opened the door. I walked to the corner of the kitchen and got a broom to hold so I could act like I was sweeping if I had to. That would be pretty believable, and looking at the floor, I realized that it really _did_ need sweeping. Putting that thought on hold, I scurried back to the window and peeked through the blinds where I could vaguely see Mrs. Everdeen—hands on her hips—apparently speaking to Katniss, who had her arms folded and was looking at her mother in defiance.

Hearing Mrs. Everdeen say my name, I moved my head closer to the window to try to make out the rest of her sentence, then lightly stepped forward so I wouldn't be visible…just in case she or Katniss were to look in the window.

What was I even doing? I never spied on people. I felt guilty for just a second, but then I let the feeling pass because what I was doing was harmless. Or at least I could try to convince myself that it was. Mrs. Everdeen was acting strange, Katniss had just yelled, my name had been mentioned somewhere, and they both were clearly shutting me out of their private conversation… All of these things made me feel more immoral _and_ more curious. What was going on?

I couldn't hear a lot at first, just some mumbled words from both of them, but then Katniss' voice rose in volume as it always did when she felt strongly about something, usually when she was angry. This made her voice more discernable, and I listened attentively.

"Honestly? I've been staying here for like, a week already, Mom, and you haven't seemed to care. I'm fine."

"You're sixteen years old," I heard Mrs. Everdeen counter.

"And you weren't much older when _you_ got with Dad and ended up _pregnant_, so—"

"Exactly!"

"You're kidding me right now, right? Are you actually being serious about this?"

"Katniss, you have to understand—"

"I don't have to understand _a thing_! You have no authority over me, _or_ over what I can or can't do. I make my own decisions now. And have for a very long time."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Still, you're not an adult. You're only sixteen years old!" Mrs. Everdeen repeated firmly. "You belong _at home_. With us. Not with a _boy_, Katniss. Just think—"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Katniss shouted. "I don't even _have_ a home anymore! What's it matter if I want to stay some place where I'm _happy_?"

It was a full minute before Mrs. Everdeen spoke again. I looked at the door anxiously, just waiting for it to open. "_Katniss_, _you are my daughter_. You can't keep doing what you're doing. You can't keep spending every night with that boy, _living_ with him, just because you think you've developed some sort of—just because you have some kind of crush on him. It's going to get the both of you in a lot of trouble."

"I honestly cannot believe you, Mom. What exactly is it you think we're doing? What is it that we _must_ be doing for you to think we're going to get in 'a lot of trouble'? What are you trying to say?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Katniss! Look at your neck! I wish you would just look at yourself, look at the influence you're setting to Prim. Y'all are just so _young_, and I know right now it seems like you know everything, but you don't! You—"

I couldn't hear anything else because my heartbeat was suddenly too loud in my ears. _Shit._ I had gotten Katniss in trouble. Because I couldn't control my hormones, I had gotten her in trouble. Mrs. Everdeen had seen. I thought it was endearing the way Katniss had gotten so mad about it the other day because I knew the marks would go away with time, but I hadn't considered that her mom would see them and call her out on it. How absolutely _mortifying_.

Mrs. Everdeen clearly hated me. This was the last freaking thing I ever wanted. To be disliked by my own family was normal to me, but now my actions had caused another family to dislike me. I frowned, deeply upset with myself. Any earlier feelings of excitement left me. I felt like absolute shit.

And it wasn't even like I could say that Mrs. Everdeen wasn't making complete and total sense. What she just said about us practically living together and how it must seem to everyone on the outside…well, she was completely right. We _were_ young. And seeing as she was a mother (and apparently a _young_ mother herself), I completely understood how she would be protective of Katniss and the choices she was making with me. And technically, all of the choices Katniss had made were my fault. Maybe if I hadn't been so pushy…

It was just…. Neither Katniss nor I had considered what other people would think of our situation because, truthfully, we were both still recovering from being thrown into the arena and we needed comfort in one another. We'd been living in a closed-off world of just me and her for days now; even when we did interact with the public it always felt somehow like it was still just _us_, like we were the only ones who understood what the other had gone through. We'd both virtually agreed that we'd drop out of school, the trauma from the games so deeply engrained within us that we both doubted if we'd ever really fit in society again. In _our_ minds, we were adults already… And yeah, we were inexperienced with a lot of adult matters…like sex…but our minds _were_ grown-up. It wasn't like we didn't know what love was. That was where I disagreed with Mrs. Everdeen. We were young, but we were old enough to know how we felt. It wasn't _just some crush._

Just then I heard another voice, the other boy around Prim's age. Rory, I believed it was…I couldn't hear anything for a long time, just very quiet talking among all three of them, then: "You really should, you know," from the boy.

Though I was trying to listen alertly and seriously, I smiled a bit when I heard that. I wondered what Katniss' expression was right now at being told "you really should, you know." I had no clue what it was in reference to, but she didn't like people telling her what she _should_ do or what she _ought_ to do or what she _needed_ to do. Usually…

"Honestly, Rory? You, too?"

"I can tell you more if you just come over there with us, Katniss." His tone of voice was odd.

"Tell me more about what?! This has nothing to do with you, Rory! God! Stay out of it!"

"Keep your voice down, won't you?"

"Why should I?"

"Because other people can probably hear you."

I quickly straightened my shoulders and stepped further away from the window so I could be positive no one would see me if they peeked inside just then, though I had obviously already been seen. I immediately began sweeping around the counters and under the kitchen table. I thought about ironically whistling while I did it. How obvious would I appear to be if they were to enter right at that moment?

And Katniss _did_ come inside right at that moment, but all by herself, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind her. With anger written all over her face, she first looked toward the living room and then saw me in the kitchen. Marching toward my position by the stove, she grabbed my hand and strongly pulled.

"Come on," she ordered, firmly interlacing her fingers in mine. The broom fell to the floor with a loud thud, and I tried not to trip as Katniss dragged me through the house and out the back door. The blistering humidity assaulted me immediately, and my clothes automatically clung to my skin uncomfortably.

"Wh-what?" I sputtered as we began walking a little slower through the back yard. "Where are we going?"

"I need to get out of here. Now."

I was exhausted, and my hesitance must've been written on my face. She stopped and turned her head to look at me. I looked back to our house and vaguely gestured to it with my thumb. "Shouldn't we—?"

"Peeta, please."

Though this day had been impossibly long for me, and though I was anxious and worried about what her mother had just said, I wanted to make her happy. Katniss looked anguished and as exhausted as I felt, and we both probably needed an entire day's worth of sleep, but I nodded in consent at her request. Anything for her.

We didn't speak for a very long time as we walked towards the forest hand-in-hand. I figured that would be where she'd want to go, and I wasn't sure about my thoughts on that but kept quiet as I let her lead the way.

As we approached the fence, Katniss stomped her foot.

"Damn," she uttered. Breathing in deeply, she then huffed and resumed dragging me down the line of the fence.

"What's the matter?"

"It's on," she said over her shoulder.

We walked another three minutes or so to another spot by the fence.

"Here," she pointed. I looked at the fence, not seeing what was so different about this section than where we were before. "When they turn on the fence," she explained, "I just crawl in under here."

I looked at the ground in uncertainty, very much wanting to go back home, but for Katniss, I just nodded my head again. It seemed like "they'd" been turning on the fence a lot lately.

She let go of my hand and looked at me. "Give me a minute to kick the dirt off…"

As I wondered where her sudden adrenaline was coming from, she quickly got rid of a thick layer of mud underneath the fence with just her boots, then, crouching over, pulled out a huge boulder-like rock that had been underneath the thick dirt.

I raised my eyebrows when she looked back at me. "Impressive," I noted.

"Thanks," she told me dismissively, "I put that there 'cause it's been happening a lot—the fence being on... So now we can just crawl underneath to the other side." She hesitated. "Um... do you think you can do it?"

"Yeah," I answered immediately, "yeah, no problem."

Right away, she slid underneath the live fence like a snake, and I watched her body contort and slither in awe. Before I moved, however, I looked around me, nervous that there would be people around us watching what we were doing. I had no idea how Katniss did this so often knowing that Peacekeepers would probably be watching out for stuff like this. But, then again, we only had a handful of Peacekeepers anyway, and they probably had better things to do than patrol the border of the forest.

Trying not to think about the fact that I'd have to do the same thing on the way out, I crawled under the fence and almost had a heart-attack as I listened to the loud buzzing of the wires above me. I bit the inside of my cheek while my body protested what I was putting it through. When I ended up on the other side, I brushed off my clothes and wiped my sweaty face with my shirt. Katniss was smiling, standing with her hand offered in front of her, so I took hold of it again and let her again walk slightly ahead of me until she felt like stopping.

After a very, _very_ long time—in which I stumbled a lot and ran into a lot of spider webs—Katniss seemed satisfied with our location and literally plopped down on a pile of leaves by a large tree. I copied her, finding a nice spot in between two huge roots to prop my back against, silently rejoicing finally sitting down.

We sat in silence for a long time, just catching our breath and letting the shade dry off our sweat. The trunk was itchy against my back, but where we were was oddly comfortable. I wondered if this spot had any significance to her.

"Wanna talk about it?" I finally asked.

She shook her head. "You had to've heard, right?" I nodded. "Then what else is there to say?"

I attempted to help. "Well, you know," I said carefully, "she _is_ just looking out for you…"

She busied her hands with breaking small twigs in front of her. "You don't have to defend her. She doesn't deserve it."

I shrugged. "I'm just putting myself in her shoes." Katniss lifted her head to look at me. "I just…I could see how, if _I _had a daughter…how I'd feel about her living with a guy at your age."

She looked at me in shock. "You're supporting this?"

"No," I shook my head, "no. Of course I don't want you to…not stay with me anymore. But I'm just saying I get her point. She's terrified I'll get you pregnant," I chuckled darkly.

"Which is none of her business even if I did get pregnant, which I won't."

"Well, it kind of _is_ her business, Katniss." The look she gave me made me have to explain myself. I held up my hands. "I'm just _saying_, baby. She…God, she hates me."

Katniss' expression turned to confusion. "No, she doesn't. She loves you. Everyone loves you."

"She doesn't want you living with me."

"So? It's me she doesn't trust, not you."

I stayed silent, not able to understand how I was feeling. On one hand, I was happy that Katniss was trying to be nonchalant about it, and on the other hand, I didn't want Mrs. Everdeen to not like me, to not trust me with Katniss, especially if I intended to be with her for… a long time. Forever.

"Then what was that 'look at your neck' comment about? _I_ did that." I pointed to my chest.

She laughed. "And I didn't necessarily stop you or anything, did I? Look, forget about my mom. I'm trying to pretend none of that back there even happened. Her opinion seriously doesn't matter to me, it really doesn't. And just so you know, I'm not gonna listen to her," Katniss told me. "I'm not going anywhere."

I looked at her and winked with a smirk on my face. "How'd I already know that? You rebel, you."

I mused at Katniss' independence for a minute before realizing that the situation really _was_ serious. Mrs. Everdeen probably looked at me like the enemy now that she lived so close to us and I had basically taken Katniss away from her home. Her daughter's virtue was at stake. And I couldn't argue with her thought-process whatsoever, seeing as Katniss and I had literally just been about to…about to do _something_…right before she even knocked the door.

"I should…probably talk to her soon…" I mumbled.

"About what?"

"Um," I stuttered, "my…my intentions, I guess."

Katniss' face contorted in disgust. "Oh, Peeta, please don't," she almost whined.

"What?" I laughed. "I really don't want her to get the wrong idea."

"What's that mean? I thought we—What are you going to tell her?"

I shrugged. "I honestly have no clue, but I just don't want her to hate me."

"She doesn't. _Please_," she begged again.

"What?" I repeated, still chuckling.

"That would be absolutely horrifying. You have no idea. Please just leave it."

I looked at her, shocked at why she was so scared by this. "Katniss," I laughed, "It'll just be a little talk. You won't even be there, so you don't have to worry…"

"Yeah, but I'll still know that you talked with her about it. It'll be weird as hell."

"What do you think I'm going to say to her, exactly?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't even _matter_ what you say; it's the topic that's weird. It's weird even talking to _you_ about this right now."

"Really? Even after—even after what we just got done arguing about?"

"Well…I've gotten more comfortable talking about it with _you_, yeah," she admitted, but then quickly added, "But don't push your limits."

I smiled, trying to keep the conversation light though my mind was still a pretty dark place. "Well, you know me, babe… I'll probably approach her something like this… 'Howdy, ma'am! I'm just a-stoppin' by to ask ya if ya mind if I shack up with yer purdy daughter and make us a bunch of young'ns!'"

She emitted a loud laugh and pushed my shoulder playfully.

"Hey, I was being serious! Do you—do you not think that's a good game plan?"

"Sure, _Haymitch_," she sarcastically agreed. "Do not talk like that ever again, do you understand?" she laughed, and I couldn't help but laughing with her for a long time.

"Fine," I finally said, putting my hands up in mock surrender, "I won't talk to her, then."

"Yes, you will," she replied, still laughing.

"Yes, I will," I repeated with a smirk. I leaned closer to her and bumped her with my shoulder, the one she'd just touched. I was dying to get near her again, to feel her close to me. Even though it had crossed my mind to ease some of my guilt by keeping my distance from her, I knew that'd be impossible. She immediately sat closer so that our arms were touching. We stayed like that, both looking around in front of us, thinking out own thoughts, for a long time.

"I'm just so tired of us always getting interrupted," she sighed.

I nodded in understanding. "I know…But it just seems that way," I consoled. "We have plenty of time…Like I always say, there's never a rush or anything..."

"Don't you get mad, though? Don't you get mad that—that we can't ever have time for ourselves?"

"We _do_ have time for ourselves," I countered.

"Doesn't seem that way," she argued.

"Well," I replied, placing my hand on her leg, "sadly, we live in a world where all types of horrible stuff happens all of the time…and it's hard to find peace and quiet…time for yourself...time with loved ones."

"So technically, there _is_ a rush, then."

I shrugged and remained quiet, not knowing how to turn this conversation into something optimistic. She was correct, as usual.

"We could always just…stay here," she said, putting her head on my shoulder and sliding her left hand along my stomach to rest on my hip. My stomach involuntarily tightened at the proximity of her hand to my cock. "Stay here the whole night…Sleep here…Make a home in here and never have to deal with anyone's shit ever again. Never have to see anyone ever again."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Mm, I don't know," I replied, finding her hand on my stomach and holding it, "I'm sure we'd miss everyone… And how would I cook for you? How would we get to have those nice, long showers together?"

I felt her smile against my shoulder. "We have the lake here," she insisted. "And I know how to make a fire to cook, you know."

"Ah," I played along, "good old squirrel stew."

"Hey! Squirrels are delicious. Even your dad likes my squirrels."

I laughed. "True. But…what about when it gets cold? We just gonna have a fire to heat our little shack out here?"

"Well, yeah. That's what we do in the Seam, you know."

Shit. There I was, not meaning to be insensitive but succeeding anyway. Luckily, my comment didn't seem to hurt her feelings, but I frowned at my stupidity. "Plus I have you to keep me warm."

My face softened. "You do," I agreed. For a while, we were quiet, just listening to the invisible noises out there in the woods, the rustling of the leaves, the different chirps and sounds I couldn't recognize. I wasn't sure if we were still just making up playful future scenarios or being serious right now. "I'd miss everything about the home we have now, though," I whispered. "All the space we ever dreamed of having. _Just for us_. Your flowers outside... My painting room… That big stove… Hot water…"

"Yeah," she agreed, "good point. I'd miss our big, comfy bed, too."

"Mmm," I contentedly agreed. "And the things we could do in our big, comfy bed."

She lifted her head from my shoulder to look at my face, close enough to bend forward and kiss me. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered.

"Where else would I be?" I asked seriously.

Her eyes closed for a few seconds, and she smiled. Shrugging, she replied, "I'm just glad you're here, is all."

Her hand still in mine, I held onto it firmly as I beckoned her to move and sit on my lap. As she shifted and straddled me, I put my left hand on her waist and used my right hand to squeeze around her fingers on the hand I hadn't let go of. Now we were basically face-to-face, though I had to slightly look up to meet her eyes. One of her hands held onto the back of my neck, her fingers playing with the sweat-dampened hair there.

"But really, where else would I be but with you? I happen to love the forest," I playfully said.

"I can tell," she replied with a flirty smile. Her hand left mine to meet her other one at the back of my neck. "That why you keep looking around all nervous?"

Well, damn. I had tried to hide that from her. I honestly was terrified that Peacekeepers would have us apprehended and arrested any second, or that snakes would be falling out of the limbs above our heads, or that wild animals would circle us from the brush surrounding our area. I tried to remember I was in good hands with an experienced hunter sitting on top of my lap, regardless of the fact that we were both defenseless. I tried to come across casual as I explained, "Just a little paranoid, I guess."

She nodded earnestly. "Don't worry," she assured. "We're all alone. Just you and me."

I swallowed at her tone of voice. "Just you and me," I breathed, my heart rate picking up again. Since we were sitting against a tree and her knees were on the ground, I suddenly thought of her comfort and asked, "Are you sure you're comfortable like this?"

"Shut up," she whispered, moving her face towards me to kiss me lightly. I smiled against her mouth as my hands moved up and down the sides of her waist. The air around us felt warmer as I moved my lips to kiss her back. It was short and chaste, but our lips were loud as they parted, and all my desire from earlier hit my chest strongly.

I leaned forward and pressed delicate kisses to every inch of skin my mouth could find—her temple, her cheek, her jaw—holding her so close and so soft. I leaned to the side and gently sucked on a patch of skin at the bottom of her neck, cautiously pressing in with my teeth. There was something so satisfying about leaving a visible mark where my mouth had been, but I knew that I couldn't. At least not where anybody could see. As horrible as it was, seeing the fading marks I already had left on her neck turned me on even more. To know that I was the only one allowed to do this… to know that she actually _wanted_ me to do this, that she loved it as much as I did…

I groaned as I kissed my way back to her lips, finding hers soft and pliable under my own. Our kisses soon became urgent and sloppy, bringing back all of our passion from before. Tongue got added. And heavy breathing and panting and hands squeezing at one another. The only thing I knew was hot skin and quick breaths; the only thing I was sure of was that I wanted to stay attached to Katniss like this for the rest of my life, damn the consequences.

Suddenly, her mouth left mine, leaving my lips cold and moist with saliva. I clasped her hips tighter as I felt her lips graze along the stubble of my jawline before descending to my neck.

"Just wait til _your_ neck's all covered with marks," she whispered close to my ear before licking her way down and sucking beside my throat. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as goosebumps riddled my skin in the middle of summer.

"I don't even care," I rasped, sounding desperate as I fought the shivers up and down my spine. I hadn't realized it, but we had been slowly pressing against each other rhythmically—me, up and down, and her, back and forth. I felt her teeth against my neck, biting, sucking, all at the same time her hips were moving, and _God_…it had to be the hottest sensation I'd ever felt in my life.

My heart pounded madly as we began grinding our hips against each other's. Mostly Katniss moved, rocking herself around on my lap as I tried to remain solid and hold myself together. I was in an odd mix of pain and pleasure, my dick strained against the tight denim of my jeans, and I was sure I would come in my pants any second. I looked to the side and focused on the tree root beside my leg. I tried to study it, examine all the shades of brown, anything to keep my mind off of what was actually happening before I embarrassed myself, but as I looked to the side, all I could zero in on was the motion of Katniss' knee. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Suddenly, I felt Katniss remove her mouth from my neck and slow her movements down a bit, and I exhaled brokenly as I opened my eyes to seek out her face again. My head gently fell back to rest on the tree, and she moved her head up from my shoulder to reverently look at me, her hips moving slower and slower and slower. It was sweet torture.

She backed her hips a few inches away, removing all contact completely, and I wanted to immediately pull her back to me. Before I could even move to act on that thought, her hands dropped between our bodies and she unbuttoned my jeans, using her swift little fingers to pull the zipper down before I even realized it. I was pretty sure I squeaked.

"God, baby, slow down, slow down," I whispered urgently, holding onto her forearms and looking pleadingly into her bright eyes.

"I can't—I don't want to," she whispered back. "I need this." I looked at her questioningly. What was it she needed? And how did she manage to look so_ innocent_ right now? "Please," she almost whined. I swallowed.

"O-okay," I answered, dropping my hands to her thighs and allowing her to move the material of my jeans to either side and gingerly remove my throbbing dick from my boxers. I looked down. The entire head was already wet, and it glistened as she pulled it all the way out of my boxers. Her small hand just held onto it at first, and _God_… I rolled my eyes at how good even _that_ felt. Along with the gentle breeze on my sensitive skin, I was already in ecstasy. Katniss tightened her grip and began slowly jerking me, her palm bleeding warmth along my entire shaft, and my fingers dug into her legs as I hissed in a breath.

"Feel good?"

"God, yes," I moaned.

Both of our heads lowered to watch the movements of her hand. It was like she was studying every little thing she could do to make my breathing change, to make some noise come out of my throat, to make me feel good, while I was watching in awe, completely mesmerized by how this always felt so different, so better, with Katniss doing it.

"This is crazy," I managed to whisper. She beamed down at me, and the smile reached her eyes so that they got little crinkles on each side. It was unbelievably cute. She was so pretty.

Her puffed pink lips asked, "What's so crazy about it?"

I shook my head, not wanting to ruin the moment by stating that where we were was an absolutely crazy place to be doing this. Instead, I smiled along with her before officially ending any more talking or thinking with a kiss. I roughly grabbed onto the back of her neck and pulled her to meet me, loving the feel of her hair beneath my hand, loving the sweetness of her breath, the taste of her tongue, the noises she made just from bringing _me_ pleasure.

Thinking of that, I abruptly reached forward and unbuttoned her jeans, trying my hardest to lower the zipper with just one hand. Too much was going on—her mouth on me, her hand on me—and I couldn't function. I had to break away from the kiss and look at what I was doing in order to open up her pants, revealing to me a pair of plain green undies.

"It's—you don't have to," she breathed. Disregarding her words, I gently tugged down her pants a little bit and wasted no time in reaching my hand forward to cup her. Heat purely radiated from her, and I _longed_ to pull her panties down, too, to touch her skin-on-skin.

"But—" she protested, probably to say something about her period, but I didn't care.

"It's okay," I whispered softly, looking up at her. "I want you to feel good, too."

My arm was awkwardly angled between our stomachs, and I tried to move it around experimentally, but I wasn't getting anywhere.

"Move against my hand," I ordered. She looked at me almost timidly but imperceptibly nodded her head a second later.

She started off torturously slow but soon developed a rhythm. With each _slow_ thrust forward, her hand moved up my cock. With each _slow _thrust backwards, her hand went down again, until she began to move faster and faster, ultimately bucking against the inside of my palm in desperation, chasing what she had to have. We both let noises escape us and float away into the thick air blanketing our skin.

I fought the impulse to squeeze my eyes shut at the pleasure she was bringing me because my eyes needed to be fixed on her—I had to wait for her to come before I did. With my mouth gaping open, I studied her. She was absolutely gorgeous like this, with her own mouth parted and her eyelids squeezed closed. I could feel my heart pounding wildly while my eyes stayed focused on the beauty of her face.

"God, Katniss," I slurred. "You like this, don't you?" I asked in awe.

She opened her eyes and nodded her head vigorously, almost looking like she could cry, then she let her head drop to my shoulder. Now there was literally no way for me to move my hand even a little bit, so I just kept it cupped and watched her hips begin to frantically move back and forth against it.

And she pressed her face closer to my neck, panting so close to my ear, her mouth wet and hot against the sensitive skin she had been biting before. I finally let my eyes close and tried to think about anything other than her, anything besides her hair all in my face and her body writhing above me and her fucking hand moving sososo quickly and her mouth suddenly latched back onto my neck, biting down almost painfully hard.

It was impossible. I was going to come any second. I was so close. All of my muscles clenched, and my whole body quivered to life before exploding. I came with a low broken grunt, my back arched and my hips jerking forward to paint white streaks on her hand, one hand braced on the curve of her hip, painfully squeezing until I was sure I'd left marks.

My heart raced throughout my body, and all I could do was awkwardly wrap my arms around Katniss and place kisses on any part of her I could find, mostly all over her neck where her hair stuck to the sweat there. She had stopped moving and she clung to me with her head still buried in my neck.

"Much better than when I do it," I panted, trying to break the weird silence and smiling though I knew she couldn't see.

When she hadn't said anything for a good minute, I shifted so that I could see her face. Her body felt limp as she bonelessly backed away from me.

"I'm really sorry…Did you—?"

She simply nodded, her face looking just like it had the night she was drunk. I felt victorious.

Now that we'd finally both come down from our highs, we simultaneously looked down to our laps where I had made a huge mess. My hand was still in her pants, and her hand was still on me, though now I was completely soft. Her skin there was absolutely covered in my cum.

Not knowing what else to do, I awkwardly removed my hand from her jeans and bunched up some material from my boxers to wipe her hand with. "I know that's gross," I immediately told her in embarrassment. "I—I'll wash them later." She smiled, hopped off my lap, and zipped back up her jeans. I took the time to fix myself up, too, surprised and happy when just a moment later she sat back down between my legs with her back against my chest. All I knew was that I wanted to stay in this moment forever and never have to worry about anything outside of the solitude of the woods. I wanted to laugh at myself—never would I, _in a million years_, have predicted that that thought would cross my mind. But Katniss had made it come true.

I deeply breathed her in as she rested herself more comfortably, allowing me to wrap my arms around her. "You smell good," I commented.

She brushed the compliment off. "Ugh, I'm certain I don't, I'm all sweaty."

"Mm…You're right…I lied," I said as a yawned. "You _reek_. I'm just holding onto you to try to stifle your bad smell with my fresh, clean one."

"What fresh, clean one? You've scared off all the animals," she came back, yawning herself.

I didn't let her hear my chuckle. "That would be you, babe."

"All of the skunks in Panem _put together_ smell better than you."

That time, I laughed from deep in my belly, and just said, "I love you," kissing her neck.

We fell into a drowsy silence, my breaths becoming heavy against her neck. I slowly fell backwards against the tree trunk, using one of the roots as a hard pillow and pulling Katniss with me, and I closed my eyes as I softly rubbed the exposed skin at the top of her arms. Her hands wrapped around my legs in the usually-ticklish spot behind my knees, and her voice was deep and slow as she said, "You're my…favorite…smell."

I replied, sounding just as sleepy, just as content, "Ditto."

With my hands and arms blanketing her, we fell down into unconsciousness.

* * *

"You idiots!"

A voice hissed at us as I was in between dreams and reality, not sure if anything was real. I was too tired to open my eyes, but I felt Katniss' body jerk up, and I immediately knew I was awake again.

"Holy…God, Rory, what the hell?"

"I knew it! I knew you'd come here."

I blinked my eyes in confusion as I began to fully wake up. The sun hadn't even set yet, so we couldn't have been asleep for long, but I was still drowsy. Katniss already seemed alert, and she was standing up as she asked, brushing off her pants as she did so, "And? What are you doing here?"

Rory smacked his lips. "What are _you_ doing in here, having a nice little sleep?" He seemed to have a permanent bad attitude, and Katniss didn't take to it well.

"What the hell is it to you?"

"You can't just frolic in here and then take a freakin' _nap_, Katniss. Honestly…"

"And why can't I? Has my mother been rubbing off on you or something? Where is it that you think you can keep telling me what to do?"

"Well, someone has to! You're too stuck up this one's ass—" –he pointed his thumb to me without even looking my way— "—to see what's going on right in front of your face!"

"Watch your mouth." Katniss glared at Rory, and if she would have given _me_ that look, I would have backed down immediately, but Rory seemed to be more fearless than I was, I guess.

He continued, not fazed whatsoever, "He told me before he left—he told me, 'Watch out for her.' And, let me tell you, you're not making _one thing_ easy for me."

We all knew who "he" was. The name didn't need to be said out loud.

Katniss squinted her eyes and breathed in deeply, feigning patience. "I am over four years older than you, Rory. I have no idea where you're getting this crazy idea that you can continue to talk to me like this, but you need to stop. If anyone needs watching out for, it's you. I've been in these woods since you were learning how to walk, okay? I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not talking about that, Katniss," he snapped. "Just…Just look around, would you?"

"Listen, Rory. Go home. It's almost dark."

"Fine," he huffed in irritation. "Don't say I didn't warn you, though." He crossed his arms but didn't make a move to leave.

I had been looking between Rory and Katniss during their…conversation? Argument? I didn't know what to call it, but regardless, everything just seemed so suspicious to me. Maybe Katniss didn't think Rory's behavior was weird, but to me, an outsider, I was curious. I had been watching the expressions on his face, and something just seemed off. It was like his words had two meanings, and I was really concerned and confused about everything he was saying. As I stood up, I was prepared to interrupt, but I was sure that if he wasn't responsive to Katniss, he wouldn't be to me. It seemed like he was just now realizing I had been there when I stood up fully.

Katniss huffed exasperatedly. "Fine, I'm looking around, Rory, and I don't see much of anything," she responded, exaggeratedly moving her head to the left and right. "Why did Gale even tell you to watch out for me when he left? _And where did he go_?"

"Because he cares about you, obviously," he answered, rolling his eyes and conveniently skipping her last question.

Katniss rolled her eyes, as well. "That's stupid. Anyway, I've always looked after my own self. He never even watched over me in the first place, so why should he tell you of all people to do that?"

Rory blinked at the ground and shrugged.

"And it's not even like you've been doing much of anything to 'watch out for me,' anyway," Katniss continued.

"I've been _trying_," he rebutted. "Like I said, you aren't the easiest to watch."

"What?"

"You're always running away or something, it's like you never can stay in one spot."

"That's not even tr-wait, you've been spying on me?!"

"I've been _watching out_ for you."

Katniss' eyes got large, and her hands pulled at her hair at her skull. I could hear her breathing loudly.

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do, Rory. You're coming home with us, and we're going to sit down and talk. And you're going to tell me _what the hell_ is going on. I know you have the right to be paranoid, but for the love of God, you're going _so_ overboard right now."

"Katniss, you just don't understand," Rory said, shaking his head.

"So fucking tell me!" Katniss finally broke, almost looking apologetic after she let the word fly from her mouth.

Rory stared ahead of him for a long, drawn-out moment. We watched him in anticipation, and when he finally rose his head to speak, I thought he was about to reveal some huge secret that he'd been keeping from us, but he was just as cryptic as ever.

"I can if I take you someplace else."

Katniss rolled her eyes, but she seemed curious enough to agree, albeit with a huge sigh. "Fine."

Without a word, Rory began walking. After a few steps, he turned around, met Katniss' eyes, and motioned for her to follow with his hand.

"Peeta's coming, too, you know."

Rory assessed me, starting at my feet and ending at my mop of blond hair. I knew what he must've been thinking…probably the same as what everyone from the Seam were thinking when I was helping put out the fire yesterday…that I was just a stupid merchant's son with no real-world survival skills. His hard eyes met mine and he copied Katniss' words, "Fine."

Katniss looked at me softly, almost in apology, and I smiled at her as genuinely as I could. I put my hand on the small of her back and gently rubbed a few circles there before dropping my hand to follow Rory. She stood still for a few seconds then began walking, too.

What a shame that we had been spending such a nice evening together and now this...It was like there was always constant drama going on lately. Katniss had been completely right in saying that we didn't have a whole lot of time to ourselves. I was glad we had gotten to enjoy things while we could. I mused over this as I began following the two of them, as Katniss had naturally taken to walking at her normal, fast pace ahead of me.

Katniss and Rory intimidated me as they skillfully hiked side-by-side back into a deeper part of the forest. They knew where every little tree or root was, knew exactly how to place their feet on the earth so their ankles wouldn't twist, knew _every_thing. I was out of my element completely as I struggled to keep up with their pace. Rory looked back at me one time with an annoyed look on his face, and I could only assume it was because of the supposed noise I had been told I made when moving through the woods.

Eventually, the dirt turned into sand, and we came to a body of water. Everyone stopped walking.

"What, we're going to cross the river?" I asked.

"It's not a river," Rory said. "It's just a stream going downhill. A creek."

I didn't know how I was supposed to know that, but his tone of voice told me that it was obvious. I felt a bit defensive; how was I supposed to know that? I'd never been here in my life.

I watched as Rory stepped on a fallen tree trunk by the sand and walked its length like it wasn't just lying over fast-moving water or anything, like it was just regular ground to walk on. He reached a stone and hopped off the log to land upon it, then did a few more acrobatic moves on more rocks, each one progressively getting bigger, until he reached a huge boulder in the middle of the stream and just stood. As he looked expectantly at us just standing in the sand, Katniss followed suit and climbed on the log, too.

I felt more embarrassed and frustrated by the second in the presence of the two hunters. They obviously had more physical skill than I did and were clearly more comfortable climbing rocks and walking over water than I'd ever be. Katniss, at least, tried to make me feel a little better.

"It's okay," she told me from the log, two or three feet above me. "Here, take my hand."

I grabbed onto her hand and didn't let go as I awkwardly climbed upon it. Everything was wet and mossy and unnatural, and I embarrassingly looked like a baby learning to walk, but I managed to step onto the log without falling into the stream. Once I had my footing, I removed Katniss' hand and looked around. However hesitant I was, I couldn't deny that the view was pretty—all the trees that surrounded the stream were vividly green, and you could even see some mountains in the distance. The scene would make a beautiful painting.

I tip-toed excruciatingly slowly while holding onto Katniss' shoulder, only letting go once we reached the rocks I had to hop upon. I pretended they were little lily pads and smiled, knowing it would be easier after this. Katniss waited for me at each rock ahead of mine, and eventually I made it to the big rock in the middle of the stream that Rory was standing on.

"While I was waiting," Rory said as we approached, "I knitted a sweater."

"You're acting like a complete jerk," Katniss replied under her breath but still loudly enough for me to hear. "He's got a bad freakin' leg."

Again, I felt like a liability they didn't need.

While pretending not to hear them hiss back and forth at each other, I looked around. There were little bugs flying all around on top of the water, and the light from the setting sun coming in through some of the trees made them look strangely magical, like dust particles floating by a window before dusk. I saw about a billion flies hovering over the water and resting on the boulder we were on, just sitting there, not even flying around. One landed on Rory's neck, and when he swatted at it, it didn't even fly away like normal ones do. It fell dead on the rock. I followed it with my eyes then looked at the water where even more bugs were perched. I didn't know the names of any of them.

I peeked further into the stream and at the fast-moving water all around the many rocks scattered here and there. It sure looked like a river to me. I pictured a "stream" as something that somebody could probably walk around in—somebody like me—but this kind of water was somewhat scary. Though it was shallow, I bet if I tried to wade in it, I'd be toppled over by the current within a second.

I saw little minnows swimming impossibly fast, meeting and dancing with each other before shooting forward and disappearing to somewhere else. Some larger fish swam around, too, slower than the minnows but still eventually going someplace else.

Something else I saw freaked me out. "Oh, my God!" I shouted impulsively, a little too loudly.

Rory started. "What?" he asked in almost a panic.

I pointed to the water. "There're freakin' lobsters down there!?"

Rory and Katniss both looked to where I was pointing and began laughing, Rory's laughter reverberating along the empty space around us.

"Those are crawdads," Katniss corrected, barely containing her grin. I looked at her questioningly, not at all appeased because I didn't know what crawdads were. "Crawfish?" she tried. I just shook my head, probably red from my embarrassing lack of knowledge.

"They're…they look like lobsters to me," I muttered, feeling made-fun-of.

"I'm not laughing at you, I swear. I'm laughing at your reaction. It's just really cute."

"They _do_ look just like lobsters, though," I tried to explain my stupid mistake.

"You're right, they do," she agreed, nodding her head. "I used to think the same thing. They basically _are_ the same thing, actually. Just in freshwater." She smiled gently at me, and I felt a little better knowing she was being understanding.

"How do you even know what lobsters are?" Rory asked me. "Seems like you're not really familiar with anything outside of a fancy house."

"Biology class," Katniss retorted, answering for me. "You must not be on that unit yet, probably'll get to it in a few years."

I couldn't help it; I laughed out loud. Katniss' threatening look to Rory wasn't missed by me. I didn't know if I should be happy that she was sticking up for me or embarrassed that I was being picked on by an eleven-year-old.

I tried to diffuse the tension between the two of them. "So, you fish for fish but not for crawdads?" I asked Katniss, genuinely curious.

"Oh...No, not really. I think it's the biggest pain in the world."

"Why's that?"

"They only like certain bait…they take forever to _take_ the bait…they like to feed mostly at night…and it takes too long to get a decent amount of them, anyway. Without a trap, at least. So where I could come out here with just a fishing pole and a worm and get fish all day—or just leave the pole and go hunt—I'd have to work a lot harder for crawdads." She shrugged. "Maybe it's just me, I don't know."

At the break in the conversation, I noticed Rory's hand on his hip. This guy was seriously perturbed by me. It was clear he didn't want me to be there, that I was only distracting him from his mission with Katniss.

"So!" Katniss proclaimed loudly upon noticing his stance, clapping her hands and looking around her. "This is where you'd rather talk? On a huge, wet, uncomfortable rock? Are you _that_ paranoid that we'll be overheard somewhere else? I mean—"

"I'm certain that we'll be overheard somewhere else."

"How? Do you have people spying on you or something?"

Rory nodded solemnly. Katniss had been teasing, her lips pursed in a smirk, but then she frowned.

"What, really? How do you know?"

"Look, just sit down."

Immediately, Katniss and Rory crossed their legs and sat down on the rock. I felt like an elderly man trying to mimic their actions, but I bit my bottom lip at the pain and sat down with them so we were sitting in a circle, close enough to whisper and still hear one another over the water in the background.

Though the water was loudly moving around us, Rory looked around him in all directions before whispering, "I've been trying to find a way to talk to you for a long time. Ever since Gale left."

"What's going on? _Where'd he go_?"

He shrugged. "I still don't know everything, and I still don't know how much I should really be telling you."

"How about you tell me everything you know? Now, while you can. I need to know. Are you in trouble?"

"We all are."


End file.
